


Love Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me

by pseudosmodingium



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Bathtub Sex, Eventual Happy Ending, Hunter Dean, Implied Switching, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mostly implied sex, References to Depression, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Writer Castiel, Writer's Block, but also actual smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-24 22:12:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9789320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pseudosmodingium/pseuds/pseudosmodingium
Summary: Cas is a writer struggling to find inspiration for a new book. After having a strange dream he immediately begins to write. Mysterious things keep happening when he meets a guy who reminds him of the man he’s writing about. He eventually realizes that they’re not only very much alike and sharing the name Dean but actually happen to be the same person. Cas had originally planned to kill the character in the end, but soon refrains from his initial idea as he doesn’t want to hurt the man he’s fallen in love with.





	1. Haunting my dreams

**Author's Note:**

> This got way angstier than I'd thought in the beginning.
> 
> About the setting: I've never been to Seneca Falls, nor do I know anyone there. I've done some research for locations but in any case this is a fictional version of the place.
> 
> This fic was inspired by the movie Stranger than Fiction. It's cool, you should watch it. It has Emma Thompson, Maggie Gyllenhaal and Will Ferrell in one of his serious roles.

_Renowned fantasy author Castiel Novak made his debut at the age of 22 with a short story collection simply titled_ Ghost Stories _. A year later he gained further attention with his first novel,_ Monster Party, _which earned him a ‘John W. Campbell Award for best New writer.’ For his later works he received numerous ‘Hugo Awards’ and other notable prizes. The last book of his best-selling trilogy,_ Angels among us, _was published three years ago. Since then it has gotten quiet around the author. Fans all over the world are wondering when and if there will be a new book._

 

OMG did you hear the rumors about an AAU movie??

\- I just hope they won’t turn it into some plot-less action and sfx spectacle.

\- - you think they’ll keep the subtextual love story between Barnabas and Leroc?

\- - - less sub, more text plz!!!

\- - - - have they ever done such a thing? not a chance.

 

Finally, he was home again. The trip to LA with his publisher Naomi had been exhausting. He had cringed at the mere thought of it before. _Are you writing again? Why aren’t you writing? I want to see something. Soon, Castiel._ He really wanted to write. But he couldn’t. He had no inspiration at all. He had considered reviving the main characters from the works that had preceded his trilogy. The problem was: they were dead. He had killed them. And it just didn’t make sense to bring them back. It would ruin his earlier works. He had also chosen to kill off the protagonist from AAU. It was the right thing to do. He owed it to the story, in order to make it work. People on the internet were already calling him ‘the new George R.R. Martin.’

They had spent almost a week negotiating a possible film version of said trilogy. Castiel hadn’t liked any of the suggestions. None of it focused on the main theme of the books: Who am I? Where do I belong? What means family to me? All of their drafts had included massive angel wars, fire, ultimate destruction, merciless wrath in the name of God. Briefly, a striking special effects opus. They wouldn’t even keep the gay love story he had sneaked into it. He had never confirmed it, but his most devote fans had realized what he had written between the lines. Worse: none of their concepts even included Leroc. _Superfluous,_ they called him. Never would he give his consent to let his intellectual property be wrecked like this. He didn’t care about the money. He had his house, his car, his library. He didn’t need anything else. At least nothing money could buy.

Two years ago he had moved from New York City to Seneca Falls. He needed to escape the noise, the busy people everywhere. Taking off some time after finishing his last book was something he had planned, but now more than three years had passed and he still wasn’t writing again. When his PR tour for AAU had finally been over, he had taken his car and driven around the state, enjoyed the sights, talked to new people and fallen in love with the town he was now living in. He had found a house and said goodbye to his family and friends in NYC. Castiel still had a room in the apartment he had been sharing with his sister Caroline, in case he had to stay in the city for a few days for appointments with his publisher or social events he didn’t particularly like but had to attend anyway.

His best friend Meg had been furious when she had heard about his plans to move away _. You can’t leave me alone here! Don’t you think I’ll be driving five hours just to visit you!_ She hadn’t been mad at him for long. Sure, Cas was sad that he couldn’t meet her whenever he wanted anymore, but there were phones and the internet, right? He needed to move on. And on, in that case, meant away. It wasn’t that far, but far enough.

Meg had burst into laughter when Cas had told her where he was going to move. Apparently, Seneca Falls had been the inspiration for Bedford Falls where the movie _It’s a Wonderful Life_ was set. Meg used to call him Clarence and the origin of that nickname had always been a great mystery to him. After years of refusing to explain it, she had given in and shown him the movie. _You’re an angel, Cas,_ she had said. _If I’m an angel, then you’re a demon._ She had put on an evil grin. _You’ve always been able to see through me, Clarence._ This exchange had occurred on their last evening together before Cas had moved away. He missed her.

Castiel stepped into his empty house. Everything was like he had left it. He put the few basic items from his quick stop at the store into the kitchen cabinets and fridge, then carried his suitcase into the bedroom and started to unpack it, putting unused clothing back in the closet, other things into the washer. Then he treated himself with a long hot shower. So much was on his mind. With the failed movie negotiations he didn’t any longer have an excuse for why he wasn’t writing. Naomi pressured him to write but the more she pushed, the less inspired he felt.

What if he would never write again, if his writer’s block would last forever? He was 34 now. What was he supposed to do with his life? He considered teaching. Would that mean he had failed as a writer? No. Of course not. He had already published several novels, won numerous prizes. But what else had he accomplished? He had only very few friends. Most of them lived hours away. In Seneca Falls he had not really made friends. The people were nice, he was on friendly terms with his neighbors and some of them were even excited to live next to a famous writer (their words, not his).

His last serious (kind of?) relationship had ended years ago. He liked being alone. That’s why he had moved from New York City to a small town in the first place. But being alone _all the time_ sucked. He was so lonely. So very, very lonely. Maybe he should get a pet, a dog perhaps.

He turned off the water, dried himself with a towel, dressed and sat down on the chair by his desk in his library. Writing surrounded by books had always inspired him. Looking at the shelf filled with his own books had been extremely motivating before. Now it just made him feel bad, like everything he was ever going to write had already been written. He had no more words, no more stories to tell. He had drained his muse until there was only an empty shell left. He had killed her like he had killed his characters.

Cas stared at the white screen, the blinking of the insertion point telling him to enter something so it could move forward. He opened his email-program. The first message was from Naomi. He ignored it. Some newsletters, an invitation to a concert of his mother’s church choir, the same invitation sent by his father. He closed the program again and returned to staring at the empty page, but only for a few seconds before he closed the lid of his laptop as well.

He needed to get out of here, needed to do something with the sudden energy peak he felt. Writing, obviously, was not an option. He changed into his running outfit—he would deal with the laundry later—and turned left at his house to follow his usual route. Mr Turner, who was watering his flowers, waved his free hand and Castiel waved back at him. He crossed the bridge and passed the _It’s a Wonderful Life_ Museum. Meg had once dragged him there during one of her visits. She had hated it more than he had. _What did you expect? It’s not the Guggenheim._ Although she had been opposed to driving here from the city, she had come to visit him a few times so far.

Cas followed the water, then Cayuga Street until he reached the library. He turned left twice and headed back south. By the water he sat down on a bench, leaning forward, resting his chin on one hand, and watched the tiny waves caused by a light breeze. It was peaceful, but Cas was still agonizing over his complete lack of ideas. Dusk was approaching, so he decided to return home.

After finishing his laundry and a small dinner, which had consisted of a few peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, he went to bed and watched funny videos on Youtube until his eyes got heavy. He felt tired, but sleep did not come for a very long time. Eventually he fell into a state of unconsciousness that was far from refreshing. He was not sleeping. He wasn’t even in his bed, nor himself. Castiel (was that his name?) lived in a world full of evil. Loss had formed him, he was all alone in this life. He longed for normalcy but it was his burden to continue like this until his inevitable death. And how he would die! Bloody, painfully and if he was going to be lucky the suffering would end there.

When Cas woke up, he was exhausted. He felt like it had been months, maybe years of jumping from one horrifying dream into another. The numbers of his alarm clock were glowing devilishly in the dark of his bedroom. It was 4:21 am. He was already forgetting what his dreams had been about and he didn’t try to hold onto them. He had to come back into the real world where those things that had haunted him did not exist, where he was safe. His T-shirt was soaked in sweat and he went into the bathroom where he threw it onto a pile of used towels. He washed his face and studied the reflection of it in the mirror. Yes, this was his face, always had been.

He picked a fresh T-shirt from the dresser and wandered down the hallway. He stopped at the library and before he realized it, he was standing at his desk where his laptop was still on standby. Cas felt strangely inspired, so he pressed a key to recover it and the blank white page that had mocked him earlier appeared. As soon as he sat, his fingers began to quickly hammer onto the keyboard.

 

When Castiel had finished the draft for the first two chapters, it had almost been five hours since he had taken his eyes off the screen. He hadn’t even looked at the time in the corner and was surprised to see that it was already past nine in the morning. The sun was peeping through the venetian blinds and Cas realized that he should hydrate and probably eat something. After drinking two glasses of water, he started the coffee maker and cracked three eggs into a pan. He would let it rest and read what he had written so far a few hours later. It was good, he was certain of that. Only a draft, the major plotline had yet to be developed, but he already felt like knowing his protagonist so well, the story would sure come easily to him. _Dean Winchester, the man who carries the weight of the world on his shoulders._ He sat on a bar stool at the kitchen counter and enjoyed his eggs with some toast. Such a simple meal had never tasted so good.

After breakfast he took a shower and got back to work. The man he was writing about called himself a ‘hunter,’ but it wasn’t deer he was hunting; supernatural creatures, monsters were the things he aimed his gun at. Castiel would definitely have to do some research on the various mystical beings that different peoples do and have believed in. Should he include pagan gods? His last books had focused on Christian mythology, so it was probably time to expand the lore for this one. He had written about ghosts, vampires, werewolves and demons before, even the devil, but there was so much more to explore that humanity had made up over the course of millennia. How does one kill a god? Greek, Roman, Scandinavian gods—all those were mortal on some level, Cas had yet to find out what was thought to cause their death. Anyway, the most interesting part of this project would be the psyche of Dean. Castiel had already worked out his background story. It was a tragic one. At the young age of four, Dean had lost his mother. A demon had killed her. The family house burned down, but Dean, his baby brother Sam and their father survived. However, life as they had known it was over. John Winchester was obsessed with finding and killing the thing that had taken his wife from him. Sam and Dean, despite their young age, had to follow him everywhere he went on his search. John soon realized that there was far more evil in this world than one would have thought. He lost his focus of finding one particular demon and got distracted by hunting other creatures and entities, neglecting his sons, regularly leaving them on their own for days, even weeks. Dean always obeyed his father. John told him to take care of his brother and he did. John taught him how to handle a gun and Dean did as he was told when his father needed backup on hunts. _It was always ‘Dean, do this! Dean, do that’ and he would answer ‘Yes, sir!’ He had to grow up in just one night; the night his mother died. He was only four._ Poor boy.

The phone rang when Cas was busy making himself avocado and tomato salad for lunch. “Hello, Naomi. Yes, actually I am writing.” He told her about his plans and what he had worked out so far. “Sounds good, but I’d advise you to give the guy a love interest. Analyzing his mind doesn’t seal the deal for me. I know, there are those adventures in hunting monsters, but I’d like to see a love story at some point. The fangirls love that. Also, it would make things more dramatic when you kill him off in the end.” Cas hadn’t thought about Dean’s eventual fate yet. Naomi was probably right. Dean’s life was headed towards an early death. “Keep me up to date and send me the first chapters as soon as you’ve finished them,” she told him before she hung up. The avocado had gotten brown.

Dean had been exposed to a world of hyper-masculinity.  His father was a former marine and everything that could have been considered girly or otherwise unmanly was strictly off limits. A man was only a man when he didn’t show any signs of fear. Being a man meant drinking, guns, having as many women as possible. Men didn’t cry, they didn’t shy away from their duty, even if it doomed them. Dean often had a hard time keeping up with those rules. As a young child and teenager he used to cry a lot, but made sure nobody could see or hear him. He often got black out drunk. The list of girls he had hooked up with was endless. Then his father died. His brother had left them years ago to study. Sammy was safe and Dean didn’t even think about getting him back into hunting once. John’s death meant two things for Dean: for the first time in his life he was all alone, and for the first time in his life he was free—free to be himself, free to do whatever he wanted. The only problem was that he had the mission to save people and his father’s passing didn’t change anything about that. Yet, he could alter the parts of his life that weren’t directly affected by hunting (to be accurate, hunting life affected everything, but at least tiny modifications were possible now). In particular, we are discussing the thing about the women here. Dean liked women. A lot. But he also liked men. Like liked. He had often thought about being intimate with another man, but never dared to actually do it. His father would have killed him.

Yes, Castiel was creating a bisexual character. Naomi certainly wouldn’t like this, but he needed to grow some balls (great, now he sounded like John Winchester) and just do it! Cas had never publicly spoken about his own sexuality. He preferred to keep certain things private, but he could for sure give his characters their own voice.

Dean’s love interest would have to be a man. People tended to negate a person’s bisexuality if they ended up with someone of the opposite sex. What kind of guy would Dean fall in love with? Dean dreamed of an ‘apple pie-life with a white picket fence,’ thus someone with a house who would help him settle down. Someone who would like to have kids. Someone Dean could take care of, but would also take care of him. Castiel would like to take Dean into his arms, hold him and comfort him. Wait! Was he now fantasizing about an imaginary person? He needed to go for a run again to clear his head, maybe take a nap afterwards. He hadn’t slept that much after all.

 

There had been dreams again. The despair, that wasn’t actually his, lingered for a while after he had woken up. His muse nurtured from it, though. Cas worked on Dean’s backstory until he was halfway satisfied. For the hunting jobs he needed to consult the internet and public library, but that was a task for another day. His sleeping schedule was out of balance, now that he had been up so early, despite not being able to sleep properly, and only napped for two hours in the afternoon. His mind wandered back to the thing with the love interest. Who would that man be? What should he look like? Who would Cas like to fall in love with? No, stop! This was about Dean, not him. They were totally different, like night and day. A guy Cas might like wouldn’t work for Dean. Cas would like someone like Dean. _What am I doing?_

Cas ended up naming the man Jimmy. He left his outer appearance rather vague, so the readers had room imagining him like they wanted. He gave Jimmy great hair, though. Dean loved thick hair he could comb his fingers through. Jimmy was educated and noted Dean’s intellect which most people failed to see. They usually took him for a handsome guy with muscles, lacking the brains. Sure, Dean was a high school dropout and he didn’t go to college—that didn’t mean he was stupid. Dean would meet Jimmy during a case. Would Dean tell Jimmy about his job? Probably not.

Castiel’s phone rang. “Meg!” It was good to hear her voice. “Cas, you still haven’t RSVP’d for my birthday party next week!” Right, her birthday…he’d almost forgotten. “I didn’t get an invitation?”

“Sure, you did, I texted you.”

“No, you didn’t.” There was a long pause. “Fine. I’ll accept that, but I won’t accept you not coming. Saturday at 8. My place. No excuses. Bring booze and presents.” That was an order.

“Can I stay at your place or do I have to call my sister?” It was a rhetorical question. “You and I have a slumber party as soon as the others have left or passed out on the couch.” Then she asked, “What’re doing right now? We haven’t talked in a while.”

“I’m writing.” The sound she made then caused an uncomfortable ringing in his ear. “I wanna hear everything.”

“Well, there isn’t that much yet. It’s about a guy who hunts supernatural monsters. He’s done that since he was a kid. Oh, and he’s bi and I’m giving him a boyfriend.”

“How about you?”

“What about me?”

“Have you given yourself a boyfriend since we last talked?” He knew Meg was teasing him.

“You think I’d be stupid enough to have a secret boyfriend? I would never keep such a thing from you, I wanna live.”

“Good boy.”

“So, what do you think?”

“Sounds great. Where is the story set? Don’t tell me it’s some small town romance like _The Bedford Falls Mysteries._ ”

“No. It’s all over the country. He drives from town to town, anywhere he might be needed.”

“You have to give him a cool car, then.” Cas hadn’t thought about that yet. “Like a pickup truck?” Meg laughed hysterically. “Yeah, you and your taste in cars. No, something classic, like a Mustang.”  
“Okay, I’ll think about it. See you next week.”

“Don’t forget the booze, Clarence!” She made a kissy noise and hung up.

He added ‘classic cars’ to his to-read list. It was definitely time to go to the library tomorrow. Cas decided to call it a night and packed his laptop and his notes so he would be ready to leave in the morning.


	2. Hello, stranger

It was mid-May and the weather was perfect again, so Castiel took the bicycle to cover the short distance to the library. Of course, it was nothing compared to the libraries New York City had to offer, but the stock was quite impressive and covered the weirdest topics. In brief, an optimal basis for a writer who required information on pagan lore. And cars. Finding a suitable car for Dean was the hardest thing to do. Cas didn’t know much about them and apparently he didn’t prefer cars that were considered ‘cool.’ Personally, those comments didn’t really offend him, but he didn’t want his book to fail on the market just because he had chosen the wrong car for his protagonist. Yes, a Mustang definitely looked good, but wasn’t that a little ordinary? How about a Camaro instead? And if, what model? There were just so many. Cas closed the book, closed his eyes and opened it again at a random page, pointing his finger. A ’67 Chevrolet Impala, that’s what it was going to be. He wrote the name down on his notepad and took a picture of the image in the book with his phone.

“A very good choice,” someone remarked. Castiel looked up. The man who had said it took a seat next to him. “You seem to have a wide range of interests,” he continued after surveying the books Cas had scattered on the table.

“Uh, I am a writer. I’m doing research,” Cas explained.

“Is that so?” the man said and looked him up and down. Was the guy checking him out? “What are you writing about that involves classic cars and, uhm, Celtic folklore?”

“How do I know you wouldn’t steal my idea if I told you?” He didn’t actually mean it. The guy smiled at him and huffed an amused laugh. “Good point,” the man said. “I got one, you know.”

“Got what?” Cas asked.

“The car of your choice, a 1967 Chevy Impala. It’s parked outside if you wanna take a look.” Mystery guy was definitely hitting on him. “I’m Dean, by the way.” Cas froze as Dean offered him his hand. “I’m, uh,” he started but was interrupted by someone loudly clearing their throat. “Who’s that?” Dean asked. “That’s, uhm, that’s Mrs Moseley, the librarian. We shouldn’t talk in here.” Cas quickly packed his stuff and signalized Dean to follow him. “I apologize,” he told Mrs Moseley when they headed for the exit.

“I still don’t know your name,” Dean said when they were outside.

“Oh, uh, yes.” _Stop acting so awkwardly!_ “It’s…I’m Castiel, but you can call me Cas.”

“That’s an unusual name.” Cas knew he would say that. Everyone did.

“It’s the name of an angel,” Cas told him.

“Does that mean you are an angel?” Now he was being silly. But, oh, it was so sweet. That smile was going to kill him. Cas couldn’t contain his blush. “You wanted to show me your car,” he said quickly to change the topic.

“There she is,” Dean said and made a wide gesture with his hands towards one of the few vehicles in the parking lot.

“She?” “Yes, a car is a she. Like ships are.” Dean sounded slightly offended by Castiel’s obvious ignorance. It was funny. “Come here, take a closer look,” Dean said. Cas did as he was told. He didn’t really know what to do. It was a car. “You can try and sit behind the wheel, if you want. But sit only, I can’t allow you to drive her.” Dean opened the door on the driver’s side and let Cas glide in, not without touching Cas’s back as he did so. The spot between his shoulder blades where Dean had put his hand tingled with warmth afterwards. “How does it feel?” Dean asked expectantly. “Nice,” Cas said. He didn’t to want to sound rude or ungrateful. “Wanna show me yours?” Dean asked then. “I rode here on my bike,” Cas told him and pointed at the bicycle stand next to the library’s entrance.

“Well, that’s disappointing. You wanna go somewhere, have a drink with me?” Dean asked him. Cas agreed and stepped out of the car, just to get back in on the other side. “Any suggestions?” Cas thought about it for a moment. There was this place Meg had taken him once. “I know a bar. I’ll tell you directions.” Dean nodded and with a roar of the engine the car came to life. Fortunately this drowned out the growling of Castiel’s stomach and saved him from a moment of embarrassment. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast and had spent almost the entire day in the library.

The bar had only opened a few minutes ago and Cas and Dean seemed to be the first guests of the day. “Any recommendations?” Dean asked when they had been seated. “Uh, the chicken wings taste good, I guess. I don’t come here often.” Without a word, Dean went back to study the menu again. They ordered beer, a burger for Dean and the club sandwich for Cas.

“So, are your parents religious or why did they name you after an angel?” Dean said after the waitress had taken their orders.

“Uhm, yeah, you could say so. I mean, we used to attend Mass every Sunday and my mother, especially, is very active in our church’s community. But Castiel is not my given name. I had it legally changed after college.”

“What’s your real name then?”

“James. I didn’t feel like the name suited me.”

“You said you’re a writer. Anything I might have read?”

“If you’re into fantasy, maybe. I write about ghosts, vampires, demons, stuff like that. My last books were about angels. _Angels among us,_ if that means something to you…” Cas was always very shy when he had to talk about his work, unless it was to promote it.

“Yeah, fantasy literature is not really my area, but I read lore a lot, so I know what you’re talking about. So, more angels then. Do you believe in angels, or in God? I mean, you went to church a lot.”

“Not really. Church was more my parents’ thing and I had to go along with it.”

“You’re an atheist then.”

“I consider myself more of an agnostic. I mean, you can never know what’s actually out there. I have my doubts, but I think nothing’s impossible. But I’ve never encountered a vampire, or a ghost. And it’s not like I think angels, or even God, are talking to me. I just like the idea that there’s more out there than we know. Primarily, I like to write about stuff like this. It’s fiction after all.”

Dean nodded and the waitress brought their beers. Cas eagerly took a sip. Maybe this would help to ease his nervous mood. “What do you do?” he asked.

“Oh, all kinds of things. I travel around a lot, taking a job when there is one.”

“For example?”

“Security stuff, for instance. I can also fix cars.” There was that smile again. Yeah, Dean looked like a guy who could handle some risks. He was probably carrying a gun. _Oh my God, is that guy planning on abducting and killing me, doing God knows what to me before that?_ “Why did you come up to me in the library?”

“Because I like your taste in cars.”

“You wouldn’t agree with my taste in cars…” “And you’re hot.” Castiel’s mouth stood wide open in shock but nothing came out. “You can say the same about me, if you want.” Dean didn’t even try to hide his intentions.

“Uhm, you’re, yes.” Cas’s head was probably beet-red and that stupid handsome guy was laughing at him.

“Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“A little.” And thank God, the waitress brought their meals. They ate more or less in silence, Dean generously giving him a break from his bluntness. The smirk, though, stayed on his face the whole time.

“How long have you lived here?” Dean asked when their plates were empty. “Or are you a native?”

“No, I moved here two years ago. I was born and raised in New York City and lived there until then. How about you?”

“Born in Lawrence, Kansas. Raised all over the country. Our family moved around a lot due to my dad’s varying jobs.”

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“A little brother, yes. We don’t talk much nowadays.” Dean looked upset. “You?”

“A younger sister. We used to live together until I moved here.”

They talked for a while, mostly about why Cas ditched the city for small town life. Cas told Dean about Meg’s nickname for him and how it was connected to Seneca Falls, but soon regretted it. Although Dean didn’t make fun of him this time, Cas felt stupid for telling a stranger about this.

Somehow, they ended up in the bar’s parking lot, making out. Cas was pressed between Dean and his car. It was already getting dark, but Cas didn’t feel too comfortable kissing a guy in public. “We should probably do this somewhere else,” he said. Dean unlocked the car and they got in. “Where to, Cas?”

Castiel guided Dean to his house, but when they had arrived he hesitated to leave the car. “I don’t normally do this,” he said.

“Taking guys you hardly know home with you?” Dean asked. “Yes. You don’t wanna kill me, do you?” There he was laughing again. “No need to be afraid. I’ll leave my murder weapons in the trunk,” he said, still laughing, as he exited the car. Cas wasn’t so sure if he was actually joking.

“Nice house,” Dean remarked. “Thanks.” That was all Cas managed to say before Dean’s mouth was on his again. They carelessly discarded their jackets in the hallway but Cas led Dean to the bedroom before they could undress any further.

 

When Cas woke up, it was still early. He turned around in his bed, just to find someone lying next to him. _Dean._ He was already awake, watching him with a warm smile on his lips. “You’re still here,” Cas said, noticing how surprised he sounded.

“Shouldn’t I have stayed?” Dean asked.

“No! I mean, yes, I’m glad you’re here. I just didn’t take you for the kind of guy who sticks around very long after a one-night stand.”

“I can leave now if you want,” Dean offered. He seemed to be offended by Castiel’s assumption.

“Please, stay. Until after breakfast at least, would you?”

Dean answered by kissing him. It was soft and lazy. “Your tattoo,” Cas said. “It’s a protective symbol, isn’t it?”

“You know your stuff, Mr fantasy writer.” Dean hummed an amused laugh. “It’s an anti-possession tattoo. It’s supposed to keep demons out.” He paused. “You must think I’m crazy. I know you don’t really believe in stuff like that.”

“No, I like it. It suits you,” Cas said and traced the lines of the flaming pentagram on Dean’s chest with his fingertips.

“You know, for most of my life I couldn’t be who I really am and now that I can, I wanna keep it that way. That’s what this means to me,” Dean explained. “What’s the meaning of yours?”

“It’s also for protection. An Enochian spell, the angel’s language.”

“What is it about you and angels.” It didn’t actually sound like a question. He gently stroked his thumb over the tattoo on Castiel’s abdomen. It tickled but Cas tried his best not to flinch; he didn’t want to ruin the current atmosphere. Then they were kissing again. Dean’s warm body was pushing him into the mattress. They weren’t going as far as the night before, just the rubbing of skin against skin. Shared body heat and the dampness of sweat between them was enough to drive them over the edge again.

When Cas could feel Dean’s breath steadying against his neck, he asked, “Wanna take a shower while I make breakfast?” Dean hummed in response and Cas untangled himself from Dean’s limbs to quickly wash up in the bathroom before putting on some sweatpants and a T-shirt.

He heard the water starting to run in the bathroom when he was scrambling some eggs in a bowl. Dean must have stayed in bed for a while after Cas had left for the kitchen.

“Smells good,” he heard Dean say just as he was placing the bacon on plates. “Coffee, eggs, toast and _bacon!_ I definitely hooked up with the right guy.” Cas snorted a laugh. “Yeah, you only chose me because you thought ‘he looks like he might serve me bacon for breakfast.’” “Exactly.” Cas handed Dean a plate and coffee and sat down with his at the kitchen counter.

“So, how long are you staying in Seneca Falls?” Cas asked as Dean was chewing on his last slice of bacon.

“I already meant to leave yesterday. I’m only travelling through.”

“Oh…” _Don’t be upset now. You’re lucky he didn’t molest and kill you in your sleep. What were you even thinking getting into a stranger’s car and letting him into your house?_ “Will you, maybe, come around here some other time?”

“Can I have your phone?” Dean asked instead of answering.

“What?” “Your phone, I wanna put my number in it.” “Oh.” Cas handed it over and Dean saved his number. Then Dean’s own phone vibrated on the counter. “Now I have your number, too,” he said, winking at Cas.

“I have to go now.” Castiel followed Dean into the hallway. “Cas, listen. If you need my help with anything, and by that I mean literally _anything,_ call me.” Cas wanted to ask what he meant by that but then Dean was kissing him again. “Bye.” The word was spoken softly. Cas didn’t manage to say anything. He watched Dean from the doorway as he got into his car and drove away. It embarrassingly hurt in his chest to see him leave.

 

“Clarence, baby! Hand me my present first or you shall not pass.” Meg appeared to have been drinking long before the party was supposed to start. He gave her the small package and squeezed through the door where Meg didn’t move despite having her present now. It was 8 sharp and there was only one other person in the loft. “Hello, Rowena,” he said and tried to stuff the beer he had brought into the already fully packed fridge. “Castiel,” she said in a low voice. Cas didn’t like her and it was still a mystery to him how she and Meg had become friends. The air was abruptly pressed out of his lungs when Meg hugged him from behind. “I’ve missed you so much.” Castiel gasped when he wiggled himself out of Meg’s tight grip. “I told her to wait but she didn’t listen. Already downed half a bottle of red wine,” Rowena said without looking up from her phone.

“Hey, I’m the birthday girl and that means I can do whatever I want!”

“Yes, you are. Happy birthday, birthday girl,” Cas said and placed a wet kiss on her cheek.

“You’re disgusting, but I’ll keep you anyway. Well, depending on what you brought me.” Then she unpacked Castiel’s gift. “What the hell is this?” Cas had to hold onto the kitchen isle to not fall over from laughing so hard. It was a _It’s a Wonderful life_ snow globe. “Seneca Falls isn’t exactly a paradise for shoppers, you know,” he placated.

“I really hate you right now.”

“No, you love me.”

“Yes, I do. But I still hate you.” Rowena was completely unaffected by their teasing. She was always so serious. Cas couldn’t recall a single time he had seen her laugh. Meg and Rowena had hated each after they had first met, but somehow they agreed to call a truce. It was possibly the fact that Rowena emanated something evil that had Meg drawn to her. It was one of the few things they seemed to have in common. This and their jobs, through which they had met in the first place. Meg was an art dealer and Rowena was an art historian who worked at Sotheby’s.

Slowly, one guest after another arrived. Most of them had jobs in the art scene as well and none of them had ever heard of the author Castiel Novak. All were kind of avant-garde, or pretended to be. Cas had never been a fan of Meg’s circle of friends. Mostly he kept to sitting on the window seat, drinking and watching the blinking lights of the city.

“Here you are, trying your best not to mingle,” Meg said and let herself fall down on the seat, next to Cas. It was past 2 a.m. “Seems like we are the only ones left. How am I supposed to mingle?” Meg looked around the loft. “Oh, right. In that case, you can finally have me all to yourself.” She nestled her head on his chest and closed her eyes. “Hey, don’t fall asleep on me!”

“I’m not sleeping. Unless you fail to entertain me, then I will possibly fall asleep.” Cas brushed a strand of dark hair out of her face. “I met someone.” As soon as he had said it, Meg was wide awake and glaring at him. “How can you spend more than six hours in the same room with me and not tell me anything!”

“I didn’t want to tell you with anyone else around.”

“Cas, you tell me right now—everything!” Meg shifted to sit on her legs, eagerly waiting for him to start talking.

“His name is Dean. We met at the library.” Meg laughed and was probably about to say something stupid like _two book geeks sitting in a tree_ but Cas shut her down before she could actually do it. “He might be the most attractive guy I’ve ever met. And the most forward. He showed me his car, a ’67 Chevy Impala. We went to a bar, we kissed, I took him home with me. We did it. Twice. Frottage in the morning. Then I made him breakfast.” Meg was squealing into her hands. “It was fun. He’s cute. I probably won’t ever see him again.”

“What? Didn’t you get his number? Where is he from? What’s he doing?”

“Kansas. All kinds of jobs. Yes, I have his number.”

“Did you talk? Text? Why do you think you won’t see each other again? What did he say?” That was a really good question. He had just assumed it was over. “We didn’t talk or text. Everything just happened two days ago. I don’t wanna embarrass myself by appearing too clingy.” He paused. “Do you think I should text him? What should I write?” He felt like a teenager again.

“Just tell him you enjoyed your time together and that he’s hot and you miss his d—”

“ _Meg,_ ” he scolded her. “Please be serious. So you think I should just text him?”

“Yes! He wouldn’t have given you his number if he didn’t want you to contact him again.” That actually made perfect sense. “Okay, I’ll text him when I’m home again. Can we sleep now? I’m tired.” He wasn’t envying Meg for the hangover she was surely going to have in the morning.

Cas stayed in NYC for the most of Sunday, even attending his mother’s choir’s concert _. Son, it’s so good to see you again! You can’t image how happy you’ve made your mother by actually coming to see her sing. You are writing again? Oh, that’s good to hear. We’ve been worried about you._ Luckily, Cas could dodge the coffee and cake at the parish hall afterwards for a belated lunch with his sister.

It was almost 10 p.m. when he finally got home. _I’ll text Dean another time,_ he told himself.


	3. Don't hurt me no more

For the next few days Cas had been busy writing and keeping up his running routine. He tried his best not to think of Dean, which was hardly possible with writing a character named Dean (he didn’t feel like changing the name) who now also had the same car as _his_ Dean. _He’s not_ yours, _stupid!_ They seemed to have very similar character traits, too. He didn’t know the real Dean that well, but it was funny how Cas could imagine him doing all those things the made-up Dean did.

When the week came to an end, he hadn’t heard anything from Dean. He hadn’t expected Dean to act first but Cas had hoped he would. The longer he waited, the worse the whole situation got. After a long day of writing, he had settled in front of the TV and zapped through the channels. Nothing was on, as usual, but he didn’t feel like watching something on Netflix either. He picked up his phone from the coffee table, unlocked the screen and scrolled through his contact list. There it was: _Dean._ He opened a new text message and considered his next step. _Hello, Dean. How are you?_ He deleted it. _Hi! What have you been up to lately? I really had fun the other day._ Delete, delete. _Dean, I’m so hard for you right now._ No, no, no! That just wasn’t him, at all. _Hey, tell me when you’re in the area again. We could meet up and repeat last time ;) Cas._ Yes, this was both blunt and innocuous. Send.

He waited a minute. Nothing came. Two minutes. Still nothing. He unlocked the screen again to make sure he hadn’t just missed the signal. No, nothing at all. An hour passed, then two hours. He went to bed and wasn’t woken up by his phone during the night. In the morning Dean still hadn’t answered. Maybe Dean’s battery had died and he couldn’t find a charger. Or maybe Dean had spent the night with someone else. Someone who fit Dean’s type much better than Cas. He wasn’t jealous; they had only been together for one night. He wished he had never sent that stupid text message. _Maybe he didn’t get the message?_ Cas went for his morning run to clear his head.

He spent the following days worrying that what he had written was the absolute worst to get things any further with Dean, or that something might have happened to Dean. At first, he considered calling Meg but he didn’t want to risk missing a call from Dean. Then he felt just stupid for bugging her with his problems. With his book he got nothing done at all that week. One evening he had fallen asleep in front of the TV, when his phone rang.

“Dean, hi.” He didn’t want to make the impression like he had been sleeping and forced the sleepiness out of his voice. “Heya, Cas. Sorry it took me so long to get back to you. I was kinda busy.” “Oh, it’s okay _.” No, it’s not! How could you leave me waiting for so long?_ “What’re doing right now?”

“Uh, nothing.”

“You told me to call when I’m nearby and actually I’m in Scranton right now.”

“Scranton, New York or Scranton, Pennsylvania?”

“New York. That’s only two hours from you, right?”

“I guess—”

“You could come and we make ourselves comfortable. I have a motel room and some work to do but I’ll be finished until you arrive. I’m gonna text you the address.” Was Dean actually suggesting Cas was going to drive there _now?_ “I’m, uh…”

“Unless, it’s inconvenient for you. I’ll only be here until tomorrow morning.” He wasn’t actually driving to Scranton now, was he? “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” _What?_ “Great! See you soon then.”

He got off the couch and quickly packed a few things. Fresh socks and underwear, toothbrush, stuff like that. What was this man doing to him? It was past eight already and all Dean had to do was call and snap his fingers and Cas was off to drive more than two hours through the dark of the night.

In the car he turned the radio on, not caring about the music. Cas just needed some background noise to stay awake. He felt like a whore for unconditionally following Dean’s booty call.

When he finally arrived at the motel, he was exhausted and mad at himself. But his heart was also pounding rapidly in his chest. He knocked at the door of room number 7.

“Hey, Cas.” Dean greeted him with a friendly smile. “Come in.” Dean’s laptop and a leather-bound notebook occupied most of the small table, next to a bottle and glass of whiskey. “Do you still have work to do?” Cas asked. “Uh, no. I’m done,” Dean said and quickly closed the laptop and book. “You want some?” he asked, before emptying his glass. “No, thanks.”

Dean seemed a little off. Not that Cas knew very well how he normally acted, but there was something tense in his demeanor. “Are you alright?” Cas asked him.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” It sounded dishonest.

“Got any trouble at work?”

“Uh, no. Just some unexpected difficulties. Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Did you really drive all the way here to talk?” His tone was a little harsh. “I’m sorry,” Dean said then, obviously aware of how that had come out. “Just…get here.” Cas took a step forward into Dean’s arms. He felt a tingling sensation in his stomach. All the anger had suddenly disappeared. Dean started kissing his neck and Cas could smell the cheap whiskey in his breath, but he didn’t mind it. Dean’s hands found their way under Castiel’s clothes onto the skin of his back.

“Is it okay if I top this time?” Dean asked. “Uhm, sure.” “Great,” he exhaled the word and grabbed Cas’s ass over the denim.

Dean seemed to be on edge the whole time. He was also rougher than during their first encounter. It wasn’t unpleasant for Cas—Dean was still tender enough, but he knew Dean was different tonight.

“I’ll have to leave early in the morning. You can stay until noon. It has all been paid for,” Dean told him when they were done. Cas was already falling asleep. When he woke up, Dean was gone.

On the table was a sticky note that said, _You just have to return the key at the front desk when you leave. Thank you for coming, last night was fun. Dean._ What was he supposed to do with that? Was this another one-time thing—a two-time thing? He was feeling anger in his stomach again instead of butterflies. Cas swore to himself that he would never do such a thing again. If Dean wanted to move things forward with them, he would have to meet Cas halfway.

 

“Hey, Meg. Can you talk right now?” He was back home and desperately needed someone to talk to. “Make it quick. I have an appointment in fifteen minutes,” she said. “Is everything okay? You sound distressed.”

“Nothing is okay.” He felt like crying. “What happened, Cas?”

“I just drove two and a half hours to get back home. Dean called me yesterday—days  after I texted him. He wanted me to come to the motel he was staying at. I did and we hooked up again. He had already left when I woke up in the morning. I feel so stupid.”

“Cas, maybe you should just forget him. He’s a dick, obviously. You’re only upsetting yourself by hoping he will want a relationship with you. That’s what you want, right?”

“I want a relationship. I’m just not sure if I want one with him.”

“How about I come to Seneca Falls this weekend? We can talk and make a voodoo-doll and call it Dean, whatever you’d like to do.”

Cas agreed and decided not to think of Dean any longer. He got back to writing and some monster hunting scenes might have turned out more brutal than he had anticipated.

Over the course of the week Cas tried very hard to ignore the feeling of worthlessness that was lingering like a black cloud over his head, which shifted to anger from time to time to eventually take over on Friday. Who did this guy think he was to treat him that way? Cas was a notable author and Dean didn’t even have a real job. The book he was currently writing was going to be his masterpiece. Dean would read it and think the protagonist was based on him. It would hurt him to learn of Dean Winchester’s fate. And he might learn a lesson from seeing how much Dean loved Jimmy. _Jimmy isn’t desperate at all, unlike me._ Dean wanted to be close to him but he had to constantly push him away because of his job, his burden. The real Dean would know how he could never have Cas, even if he wanted.

Meg arrived in the evening and Cas had already ordered pizza for them. It was so good to see her. He didn’t want to waste a single thought on Dean anymore, so they agreed to spare that particular topic.

On Saturday Cas managed to talk Meg into making a bicycle tour through town. All was fun and Cas was in the best mood ever, but by nightfall he fell into a big hole of despair again. “No-one will ever love me.” Now he was crying into Meg’s lap. “That’s not true. You’re the best guy I’ve ever known. Don’t measure your worth on how some dick treats you,” she said while gently petting his hair. He knew she was right but he couldn’t help himself. At some point he must have fallen asleep because when he woke up in the morning he was still on the couch in the living room. He got up to look for Meg and found her, still sleeping, in the guest room. Cas left her a note on the coffee maker and drove his car the short distance to St Patrick’s Church. He hadn’t attended Mass in years but he somehow felt the need to hear God’s word and maybe the priest had some inspiring or comforting words to offer. Despite that hope he didn’t really listen. He hardly knew any of the other people around. He felt like they were watching and silently judging him for not actively participating in the liturgy. An elderly woman glared at him when she saw him remain in his seat during Communion. He left as soon as the community had been dismissed in order to avoid confrontation with anybody. The whole thing hadn’t turned out like he’d hoped.

Meg persuaded him to go out for lunch and he was pretty sure the man who fiercely stared at him from the far end of the restaurant had been at church earlier, too. “Are you feeling better today?” Meg asked. “Yeah, I’ll be okay. Don’t worry.”

“You can call me any time, Clarence, if you need someone to talk to again.” When Meg had left, Cas made himself comfortable in his library and read some of his early, unpublished short stories. It was quite embarrassing and hilarious, but still, some parts were actually pretty good. He took a few notes—maybe he could use some of those phrases in his current work in progress.

 

During the first week of July, Castiel received a text message from Dean. _Hey Cas, how are you?_ Cas ignored it. He had gotten a lot of work done, even met with Naomi in the city to discuss new plans for another AAU script. If it still wouldn’t turn out to satisfy him, they might offer to let him make adjustments. Cas, on the other hand, suggested he would write the script himself. The studio bosses didn’t seem to be too keen on that idea.

On the next day, he got another message. _Cas, I understand that you’re mad at me. Please give me a chance to explain myself to you._ He huffed contemptuously while reading it. Two hours later Dean tried again to get his attention. _My life’s been a real shithole lately. I’m deeply sorry. You’re a great guy and you deserve better._ Nice try. Cas wouldn’t fall for that again.

Two days later, Cas was nipping on his second morning coffee when he saw a familiar car parked outside his house. He knew who he was going to find when he would open the door now. He waited. Nobody rang the bell or knocked. He looked out of the window again—the car was clearly empty.

Cas waited for another few minutes until he eventually opened the door. Dean was halfway down the steps of the front porch but turned around when he heard the door being unlocked. “Uh, hey Cas.”

“What do you want, Dean?” Cas pointedly crossed his arms over his chest.

“Can we talk?”

“No.” Dean actually seemed taken aback by that response. “Cas, I’m sorry. But you have to understand that my life doesn’t let me get particularly close to other people and—” “You better leave now,” Cas interrupted him. He closed the door and went to get a third coffee. He saw Dean getting back inside his car but he didn’t drive away and just stayed in his place.

An hour later Dean and his car were still there. Summer had arrived and the sun was already burning down on Seneca Falls. Dean’s presence was really bothering him. He couldn’t work with this guy waiting outside his house. It was hot and he was sweating. He really needed some cooling. Dean’s car certainly didn’t have air conditioning. The heat in that car—a black car—had to be unbearable. Did he even have something to hydrate in there? Cas restlessly walked up and down in his house. He hated himself for what he was going to do.

He quickly prepared some PB&J sandwiches and packed them along with four bottles of water and two bath towels in a duffel bag.

Dean, who had dozed off, was startled awake when Cas loudly shut the Impala’s door after climbing inside. Cas handed him a water bottle. “Drink. Then drive. We’re going swimming.” Dean did as he was told and wordlessly drove off, following Castiel’s instructions. Cayuga Lake offered many opportunities for a swim and Cas knew a place where they could be alone by themselves.

“I hope you have a second pair of swim trunks in there,” Dean said when Cas was unpacking the towels and spreading them out on the ground. “I didn’t pack any.” Dean showed him a questioning face. “Skinny-dipping,” Cas explained briefly. “What? Are you shy? I’ve seen you naked before, you know.”

Dean followed Castiel’s lead and took off all his clothes. When he was stepping out of his briefs, Cas was already sticking one foot into the water. Dean ran past him quickly, splashing cold water everywhere, and soon disappeared under water. “Show-off,” Cas murmured.

“Cas, what are you waiting for? The water is perfect,” Dean shouted after coming back to the surface. Cas slowly made his way into the water, then swam towards Dean. “I’m still pissed. This doesn’t change anything,” he said. Dean only responded by nodding. They swam a short distance in silence, then back again. They were both freezing and relishing the warmth of the sun when they could finally relax, drying on their towels.

“You need sunscreen,” Cas remarked after a while. “Come closer, I’ll apply some on your back.”

“Are you trying to seduce me?” Cas ignored Dean’s cocky comment _. That stupid smile on that stupid face._ The sun had enticed a handful of freckles on Dean’s nose and cheeks. “What are you staring at?” Dean asked, noticing Cas’s absentmindedness.

“Nothing,” he said and splattered warm sunscreen on Dean’s back. He knew how this looked like. Seducing Dean hadn’t crossed his mind at all. He wanted to torture him. Dean would like that, having Castiel’s hands massage him, but he wouldn’t give him more, even if he begged for it.

“You can do the rest yourself,” he said, handing Dean the bottle. “What about you?” Dean asked.

“I’ll handle it myself when you’re done, don’t worry,” Cas told him snappishly.

“You sure? Your back’s already getting a shade of red.”

In the end, Cas had trouble reaching every inch of his back and gave in to letting Dean help him. He hated how good that felt.

They continued their sunbathing and Cas punishing Dean with silence. After a while Dean sat up abruptly. “You have no right to be mad at me!”

“Excuse me?”

“I never gave you the impression that we were, like, a thing now. You said I should tell you if I was in your area again and that’s what I did. I didn’t force you to come to Scranton and I didn’t force you to have sex with me either. I’m sorry that I didn’t text you right back but my job has me pretty much wrapped up sometimes.”

“What is it about your job that makes you behave like a total jerk?” Cas didn’t mind the fact that Dean actually had a point there. He also didn’t mind that they were discussing this while being completely naked.

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Then why are you even here?”

Dean took a deep breath to calm himself. “I like you, okay. I came up to you in the library because you’re hot, but then we talked and I think you’re pretty damn cool.”

“Tell me about your job, Dean,” Cas insisted.

“I can’t, please accept that. I don’t wanna put you in any danger. You’re lucky you don’t know what I have to deal with every other day.”

“What? Are you a spy or something?” Dean didn’t look him in the eye. “A criminal?” “No,” Dean answered immediately. “I’m not a criminal. I help people—good people.”

“How do I know you’re not lying to me?” Cas really wanted to believe Dean but he had to stay reasonable. “You just have to trust me. I know that’s a big favor to ask but—” Cas silenced him right there. “You really remind me of someone,” he said. “What?” “I’ll leave it be for now. Maybe you can prove yourself to me.” He couldn’t tell Dean the real reason for why he was giving him a chance. He stood and walked towards the water. Dean followed him.

 

“What’s your last name, Dean?” Cas asked while they were treading water, trying to stay in one place. “Smith.” “That sounded like a lie.” Castiel kissed him nevertheless. Dean’s arms were warm, though anything above water temperature would have appeared warm to Cas right now. He pushed his tongue into Dean’s mouth and drifted closer to his chest, Dean catching him in a gentle embrace. Cas was grateful for the cold surrounding them, he wanted to keep up the kissing instead of moving things further. He wasn’t ready yet.

After warming up in the sun a second time and eating the sandwiches, Dean drove them back to Castiel’s house. “You can stay if you want.” “You sure?” Cas kissed him briefly. “You can help me with dinner.” Then they left the car and went up to the house where Dean assisted him in preparing spaghetti Carbonara. The dish was actually an easy thing to do but Cas enjoyed ordering Dean around the kitchen.

They finished the day by watching stand-up comedy on Netflix. Cas gave Dean a spare toothbrush and they stood side by side in front of the bathroom mirror. When Cas changed into his sleeping attire, Dean watched him from the bedroom door. “I…I’ll be on the couch,” he said. “I have a guest room, you know,” Cas told him. Dean awkwardly gasped like a fish on dry land but in the end only a hesitant “uh, okay” came out.

“Dean,” Cas said while tossing back the covers. “You’re more than a guest.” Dean didn’t move. “Come and get into bed with me now, would you.” They slept next to each other but kept to their respective halves of the bed.


	4. Do I know you?

In the morning, when Dean was putting milk in his coffee, Cas announced that he would go for his morning run. “Will you still be here when I get back?” he asked. “Of course,” Dean said and pushed a hand through Cas’s hair, then he kissed his cheek. Castiel was certain he was blushing again.

Cas had halfway finished his route when the music in his earphones was interrupted by a beeping noise. “Hello?”

“Clarence, what’s with the heavy breathing? Am I interrupting something?”

He laughed. “I’m running.”

“Running from what?”

“From my past as a chubby kid.” Those memories were his biggest motivation.

“When did you start working out? I don’t even know you anymore.”

“I also went to the gym back when I lived in the city. And I’m pretty sure I’ve told you about that.”

“I thought you only had a membership but didn’t actually go—you know, like a normal person.”

“Why are you calling, Meg?” He stopped. Running and talking at the same time, in addition to the sun gaining strength, was too much.

“I just wanted to have an update on your current state of mind.”

“I’m pretty good, actually.” She wouldn’t like to hear the following. “Dean’s been here since yesterday.”

“ _What?”_ That hurt his eardrums. “Meg, I’m wearing earphones, please keep it down.” He turned down the volume a bit, then he resumed, “I know what you’re thinking, but I like him, you know. He apologized for his behavior and I chose to forgive him for now.”

“Just be careful. I don’t want you getting hurt again,” she said.

“I am. We haven’t even had sex yet.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“It means he isn’t just staying because he wants this to be exclusively physical which means he actually likes me and that’s good.”

There was a pause on Meg’s end of the line. “Maybe he’s just looking for cheap accommodation.”

“Hey, don’t ruin this for me!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Keep me informed about further developments. And if Dean isn’t nice to you, I’ll come and kick him in the balls. Tell him that!”

“I will. Bye.” Then they hung up and Cas resumed his way back to Dean.

“I saw your library,” Dean said when Cas entered the house. “I hope it’s okay that I snooped around a little…I mean, I didn’t look in any drawers or so. I just wanted to get to know you better.”

“It’s fine,” Cas said and pulled his running shoes off his feet.

“A pretty big collection of prizes you got there.”

“Oh, well…it’s not that big. I mean, I won a few things but—” Dean had rushed forward to press his lips against Castiel’s. “You can be proud of yourself.” Cas gently pushed him back. “I’m sweaty. I’ll take a shower.” He couldn’t decide whether he was relieved or disappointed that Dean didn’t offer to join him _. He respects that you need more time. He may actually like you._

They spent the day at the lake again, this time renting a rowboat to explore more of the nature bordering Seneca Falls. They shared kisses from time to time but Dean didn’t try to push Cas to do anything beyond that. In the evening they drank beer in Castiel’s backyard.

“Who’s that girl on the picture in your library? The one with the dark hair and bangs?” Dean asked as they were enjoying the slowly cooling air.

“That’s my sister, Caroline,” Cas said.

“I thought so. You look very much alike.”

“Really? That’s funny, because we’re not actually related. I am adopted.”

Dean turned his head to look at him. “Do you want to tell me about it or is this something you rather wouldn’t like to talk about?

“No, it’s fine. See, my parents couldn’t have kids, so they adopted me when I was still a baby. I know nothing about my real parents. Then, two years later, my mom got pregnant anyhow, like some kind of miracle, and had my sister. We’re all good. Me being adopted has never been an issue.”

“That’s good to hear,” Dean said. Then they were silent for a while.

“Would you tell me about your brother? I know you’re not on good terms but I’d like to hear what happened between the both of you.” Cas hoped it wasn’t too hurtful for Dean to talk about his brother, but he wanted Dean to give him something in return.

Dean emptied his beer and took a deep breath. Then he leaned forward to rest his arms on his knees. It clearly wasn’t an easy thing for him to talk about.

“His name is Sam. He used to work with me and my dad but then he left us to go to college. Which isn’t a bad thing, don’t get me wrong. Dad was pretty upset, though, and I envied Sam for choosing his own path. But I’m glad he got out. I mean, I told you the job is dangerous and you can’t have an actual life while doing it.”

“Then why are you?”

“I have to. People’s lives are at risk and I can’t let them down.”

“When do you think you’ll be done?”

“Never.”

Cas didn’t need to hear more. Dean was an open book to him, he just didn’t realize it. He took Dean’s hand and dragged him inside. He led him into the bedroom where he kissed him and began to slowly pull Dean’s shirt over his head. Cas lightly touched the scars on Dean’s torso—those he hadn’t dared to notice before. Some were more prominent, others fading and hardly visible, but they seemed to cover all of Dean’s body. He placed several kisses over the tattoo on Dean’s chest, silently praying _please keep him safe._ It was all clear now; this was his Dean—the only Dean.

Bit by bit Cas undressed Dean, without any hurry. He wanted to savor this, now that he had finally understood. Dean, in return, helped him with his own clothes. Unclad as they were eventually, they settled on the bed. Cas wanted to take care of Dean, touching him in the gentlest way possible. The man in his arms deserved everything Cas could give him. He, the writer, had no words for how thankful he was that Dean opened up to him in all the ways he did— shared his body with him, his thoughts and fears. Their journey had only just begun, but they had set for the right course, Cas was certain of that.

It was all a blur afterwards. For a moment Cas thought he might be dreaming—again. But no, this was actually happening. Dean kissed him languidly, fondling the thick dark strands on Castiel’s head. “I like your hair,” he said. A sharp bolt shot through Cas’s heart. _Of course._ He was Jimmy. James. He hadn’t wanted to acknowledge this earlier. Jimmy had been based on himself from the very beginning, that’s why he didn’t describe him in great detail. Would Dean even be here if he hadn’t written it that way? He wasn’t selfish. How could he have known? He intended to help Dean, be a steady basis for him, someone he could rely on, someone who he could come home to.

“What’s wrong?” Dean asked, still combing his fingers through Cas’s hair.

“Nothing.” He shook his head to get out of his daze. “I’m just glad you’re here,” he said and pushed Dean’s head onto the pillows, kissing him deeply.

 

Dean stayed with Cas for a week. They spent the days making short trips to various places around Seneca Falls and enjoying the summer sun. Cas didn’t prompt Dean to tell him more about his life. He already knew everything, yet Dean occasionally offered bits from his childhood, telling Cas more about his brother and their former relationship without giving away too much about the true nature of his ‘job.’ He could sense Dean’s gratitude for letting him work things out at his own pace.

Then, when they were just finishing lunch, Dean received a call. “I have to go,” Dean told him. “This was a colleague. He needs help.” Cas understood.

“Take care,” he said. “Come back when you can.”

“I will do my best.” Castiel knew that Dean couldn’t promise him to return safely, but Cas was capable of ensuring it. Dean hugged him tightly and Cas had to fight the urge to never let go. Then he was alone again in his house, uncertain what Dean was up to. But the thought of being able to write Dean’s way back to him was comforting. He had changed his mind about the hunter’s awful fate. It might devalue the story, but what was the worth of a perfect ending of a book in comparison to one in real life. If there was a person out there who truly deserved a happy ending, it was Dean. And Cas would benefit from that one way or another.

He didn’t see Dean for almost a month, but he called Cas from time to time to stay in touch and reassure him that he was okay. Cas kept writing his book, sending Naomi the chapters he had already finished. She seemed satisfied with the results of his work and encouraged him to continue that way, until she got the chapter in which it became clear that Jimmy wasn’t just another hook-up, but she couldn’t break Cas’s self-assertion. Of course, she would have preferred Dean to be totally straight but understood Cas’s wish for more diversity. _That’s what I want to be known for as a writer._ His publisher was aware of Castiel’s own sexuality, thus she grasped this particular matter was dear to him and didn’t try to talk Cas out of writing a bisexual character. _With this you may even gain new readers who aren’t primarily into fantasy literature,_ she concluded her initial doubts. Also, Naomi was still regularly referring to how Dean would die in the end but Cas didn’t set things right. She would find out about his true intentions soon enough, so why risk an argument now.

 

The weather in August had been dominated by heavy rainstorms so far. Cas had moved his workplace from his desk in the library to the living room couch. Although it was only early afternoon, hardly any light made it through the windows. He would have to switch on a lamp soon. The computer was resting on his lap and his handwritten notes were taking up most of the space on the coffee table, his tea cup having long gone lost somewhere under the papers.

Cas was just about to finish another chapter, when someone rang the doorbell. He put the laptop aside and went to answer it. There, on the front porch and soaking wet, was a disheveled Dean. Cas was excited to see him at first but then his whole appearance sunk in—the desperate look on his face, the crooked posture. “Dean, what’s wrong? What happened?” The cawing noise Dean made in response was shocking. Cas pulled him into the house and cupped his face with both hands. Dean’s skin was as cold as ice. He must have been exposed to the weather for longer than just the way up to his door. Dark shadows were circling his eyes, the rest of his face was white as a sheet. “You need to get warm,” Cas said. “First, we have to get you out of these clothes.” He brought Dean into the bedroom and collected boxers and a T-shirt from the dresser. Castiel quickly peeled the wet garments off his body and helped him into the fresh ones instead. Then he fetched a towel from the bathroom to dry Dean’s hair. “I’ll bring you some tea. You try to get some rest,” he said after tucking him in. The cup would remain untouched because Dean had already fallen asleep.

Cas had returned to his work, when, after a while, he heard Dean come into the kitchen. “Dean, what are you doing?” he asked when he saw him opening various cabinets and drawers.

“I need something to drink. Where do you keep your booze?” Cas noticed the restless tone in his voice.

“I don’t have any…Dean, did you hear me? There’s nothing there.”

“Of course there is. Whiskey, vodka, beer—anything, I don’t care.” Cas got hold of his arm to get his attention. “Dean, talk to me!” Dean wriggled out of Cas’s grip and yelled, “Get off me!”

The silence that followed was deafening. The air between them had turned into jelly, Cas didn’t dare to move. Then, without warning, Dean bolted forward, grabbed Castiel’s head and kissed him with force. Cas didn’t respond to that like Dean would have expected, but Dean continued trying to get his tongue into Cas’s mouth. Then he made an attempt to push his hand past the waistband of his shorts but Cas shoved him back. “Dean, stop it!”

Dean’s blank eyes watched him for a second, before they were overflowing with tears and Dean sunk down to the floor. Cas sat next to him and threw an arm around his shoulders. “I’m sorry,” Dean mumbled between silent sobs. “It’s okay,” Cas answered and pulled Dean’s head closer to his chest. They remained in that position for some time, backs against the fridge, until Dean had calmed down enough to speak again. “I couldn’t save them. I failed. They are dead because of me.”

“Shh, I’m sure you did the best you could. Don’t blame yourself. You can’t save everyone.” Cas, on the other hand, had a feeling that this was all his fault.

Cas eventually managed to get Dean back to bed. He slept through the evening and the night and only awoke when Cas dressed himself the next morning. “Hey there, sleepyhead. Get up, I’m making pancakes.” Dean rolled off the mattress. It took him a moment to balance onto his feet into an upright position.

“I’m sorry,” Dean said when Cas put a full plate in front of him on the kitchen counter. “You already apologized yesterday,” Cas reminded him.

“I know but I think it wasn’t enough.” He touched the edge of the plate with the tip of his forefinger. “You don’t have to do this. All of this, I mean.”

“But I want to,” Cas said and brushed a hand over Dean’s cheek. “Now eat before it gets cold.”

Cas left the living room to Dean and moved his stuff back to the library. From time to time he heard Dean laugh at something on the TV which caused the corners of his own mouth to pull upwards into a smile. Around 2 p.m. Dean knocked at the open door of the library. “Hey Dean, what’s up?”

“I, uhm, I was thinking…is it okay if I make steak for us. I’ll just head over to the store and buy the meat and some other stuff that we’re low on.”

“Sure.” When Dean was about to move, he proceeded, “But, Dean. Skip the alcohol, okay?”

For a moment he feared Dean could flip out. “Don’t worry, I won’t buy any,” he replied instead. Then, already down the hallway but still in earshot, he added, “Mom.”

When he had returned, Cas joined him in the kitchen. It was fascinating to watch him cook. Every move seemed natural, like he had done it a million times. “I didn’t know you could cook,” Cas said.

“I had to learn it. Sam and I were often on our own when we were younger and the kid needed something to eat. Of course, in the beginning we had mostly canned food, like ravioli or beans. When I got older I tried to prepare other stuff. There was a time when Sam had to endure a lot of partially burned dishes but my cooking skills improved over the years.”

“You’re a good person, Dean. I hope you realize that.”

Dean stopped what he was doing right now. “You don’t know that. But thank you.”

The steaks turned out perfect, along with the baked rosemary potatoes. For the evening they made themselves comfortable while watching a movie. Dean was resting between Cas’s legs, draped over his body, head nestled on his chest, so Cas could smell his hair every time he turned away from the TV. Halfway through the movie Cas moved his hand from Dean’s waist to lovingly stroke the soft skin behind his ear. Dean, in response, held tighter onto Cas’s side.

 

Sometimes Cas would find Dean on the porch in his backyard, doing nothing but stare out into the rain. They had developed a routine of preparing lunch and dinner together; breakfast was the person’s job that got up first, which was usually Cas. Most of the time Dean was awake long before him but he often had a hard time getting out of bed.

One night—they had been together for almost ten days already—Cas woke up to find Dean’s side empty. He was afraid Dean had scrammed in secret but he was relieved to discover him on the living room couch, the only light emanating from Dean’s laptop.

“Dean, what are you doing? Come back to bed.” He sleepily rubbed his eyes.

“I got work to do. I’ll have to leave in the morning,” Dean said monotonously.

“Dean, no-one is making you do this. Don’t you think you’ve suffered enough through your job?”

“I don’t have a choice. Innocent people will die if I don’t help them.” His eyes reflected the white glow of the computer screen. “We can quit, if you want. You’ve been very patient and understanding—I see that I’ve already made big demands on you and I don’t want to strain you any further.”

Cas sighed. “I don’t wanna quit.” He took a step closer to Dean. “Do what you have to do but come back to me, okay?”

Dean took his hand. “I will.” It was more of a promise than last time. Cas would change Dean’s mind eventually about carrying on until he would bite it.

It was early in the morning when Cas was woken up by a warm hand on his shoulder. “Cas, I have to go now. I’ll call you when the job is done,” Dean, fully clothed and ready to leave, told him, standing at the bedside.

“I’ll bring you to the door. Wait, I just have to get up and—” but Dean was holding him in place with his hand. “It’s only 6. Stay in bed.” Then Dean kissed him and stroked back the hair from Cas’s forehead.

Cas pouted but did as he was told. He was still tired and only startled awake again for a short moment when he heard the door being shut. When he finally got up he was all alone in his house. It was unbearably silent and he already missed Dean’s presence. He tried not to cry and stay positive that Dean would return soon enough. Cas wouldn’t let anything happen to him.

 


	5. Guardian angel

Four days later, Cas received a picture from Dean. It was showing a huge plate loaded with meat and fries, covered in various sauces. _Are you cheating on me? :)_ Cas sent back but immediately regretted his joke. They had never actually talked about being exclusive. Cas had never expressed his wish to be in a relationship with Dean and Dean had never said so either. They hadn’t even spent a total of three weeks together. Dean was probably still sleeping around when he wasn’t with Cas, regardless of what he was writing.

 _You are better company than this delicious piece of meat, though it tastes like heaven,_ Dean texted back.

Cas was relieved that Dean hadn’t commented on their relationship status. _Where are you right now?_ Cas wrote.

_Kansas City. I think I’ve earned myself a special treat. Job is done, everyone’s fine._

_I’m sure you have. Enjoy!_

Dean didn’t text back for another five minutes and Cas assumed their conversation was over. _I’m not cheating on you, just so you know._ Cas heart skipped a few beats as he read the message. It took Cas some time to consider his answer. _I miss you,_ he wrote then.

 _Miss you too,_ Dean replied.

Dean called him in the evening and they talked for a short while. He wouldn't return soon because he was about to visit an old family friend in South Dakota who required his help with something; Dean wouldn’t go into detail, of course.

They talked again when Dean had arrived at his friend’s house. Dean planned to spend the next day working on his car. He didn’t stop talking about _her_ and how he had learned to drive with this particular car and that she had safely brought him to all kinds of places all over the country. Cars weren’t Castiel’s favorite thing to talk about but he patiently listened to everything Dean had to say and was glad to hear the happiness in Dean’s voice.

“Dean,” he said then. He shouldn’t really discuss this over the phone but he needed to know. “Are we, like, you know, together? I mean, is that something you want?”

Dean didn’t answer. “Uhm, well, we can talk about this another time when—”

“Yes!” Dean finally said. “I’d like that.”

“Good.” Cas couldn’t stop smiling when they had hung up. He had a boyfriend. Dean Winchester was his boyfriend! He had to tell Meg. He couldn’t sit still anymore. Cas danced around his house while he waited for his best friend to pick up the phone. His happy ending had finally come within reach.

 

Fall had made its way to the state of New York and Cas had decided to take the first hot bath of the season. Dean and his friend Bobby had succeeded in finishing their job—whatever it was—and his boyfriend had promised to return to Seneca Falls soon, unless anything else would come up on his way back.

Cas had just gotten into the tub when his phone rang. He groaned in annoyance and reached over to the shelf he had placed it on. “What are you doing right now?” Dean asked before he could even properly answer the phone.

“Uh, I just got in the bathtub.”

“Really?” Dean asked curiously. _Oh my God, is this leading to phone sex?_ How was he going to handle this? He would have to put Dean on speaker but the phone would have to stay at a safe distance, in case he was splashing water during his arousal-induced ecstasy. In his flustered state he didn’t even notice that Dean had already hung up. Cas almost dropped his phone in the water as the bathroom door swung open. “Jesus, Dean!” The turbulence of is full-body jerk had caused a minor flooding on the tiled floor. “Did you just break into my house?”

“Don’t worry, the lock’s still intact. I didn’t ruin anything,” Dean said while he took off his jacket and his shoes, then he started to unbuckle his belt.

“Dean, what are you doing?”

“I gonna take a bath with you,” he explained matter-of-factly and dropped the rest of his clothes onto the floor. “Move your legs a bit.” Dean stepped into the tub and Cas spread his legs, so Dean could sit between them.

“Ah, that’s good,” Dean moaned as he sunk into the water and rested his head on Cas’s shoulder.

“Dean, you really can’t break into my house like that. The neighbors will call the police if they see you and—”

“Shhh, relax,” Dean calmed him and took his hands to fold them over his stomach. “That’s nice.”

They stayed like this for a while, loosening tense muscles and just letting the warmth sink into their bodies. Then, after some time, Cas began to nose at Dean’s ear and to gently nibble and suck at the lobe. Dean hummed, wiggled slightly in Cas’s embrace, then the lips moved from his earlobe to the sensitive skin below. One of Cas’s hands shifted to Dean’s left nipple which quickly hardened from the contact. Dean turned his head to meet his boyfriend’s lips. The temperature in the room had increased, mirror fogged up, the air filled with steam clouds.

The heat was almost too much to bear, the water, Dean’s body on top of him and now the shifted mood—Cas could feel beads of sweat emerging on his forehead. He was certain all the other pores on his skin were leaking as well, he just couldn’t tell his own vapor apart from the water in the tub and the moisture in the air. His erection was pressing against Dean’s back and he couldn’t help but move his hips to get some relief. “Cas,” Dean groaned. “Please.” He altered his seat between Castiel’s legs and moved higher up so Cas’s hard-on was positioned in the crack of his ass and started grinding down on it. “God, Dean!” Pleasure jolted through Cas’s body and caused his right hand to apply more pressure onto Dean’s abdomen, just above where the hair was becoming more dense. The hand wandered deeper into the water until it closed around Dean’s solid dick. He started pumping and, at the same time, thrusted his hips upwards. Still, Dean kept begging for more, so Cas let his other hand drift under water, giving his own erection a quick squeeze and began to circle the ring around Dean’s tight entrance. Dean gasped and Cas pressed his finger even harder against him. “Relax, Dean,” he whispered, before placing a soft kiss on his temple. He kept massaging the spot until Dean loosened up enough to let Cas’s finger glide inside. Dean turned into a whimpering mess with the finger pushing into him and the hand working his dick. Cas could feel Dean getting close and after one final thrust he had to remove his finger to free his hand and wrap it around his own erection and throw them both over the edge. Their cries echoed from the bathroom walls as they spilled their releases into the water.

“Welcome back, Dean,” Cas said when he had caught his breath. “Did you miss your _boyfriend?_ ” he asked, emphasizing the last word.

“Wasn’t it obvious how much I missed you,” Dean chuckled against his cheek.

“Come on, let’s get out of here. The water’s gross and getting cold.” They gently toweled each other off, exchanging soft kisses in between, then went into the bedroom and let themselves fall onto the mattress. Still naked and skin red from the bath, they lay atop the covers, simply holding each other.

“You should come to Kansas City with me some time,” Dean said. “We could have KC-style barbecue together. It’s even better than the steak I make.”

“Oh, that’s hard to believe,” Cas said and laughed. Dean smiled at him, then he kissed him while pushing back Cas’s damp hair.

“You really missed me,” Cas said when he noticed Dean getting hard again.

“I did…” Dean was kissing his neck while rubbing his growing erection against Cas’s thigh.

“But about the breaking and entering, you can’t just do that. Not at my house.”

“Caaaas, please…” Dean nudged his face against Castiel’s chest.

“Dean, I’m serious, you—ah, fu…” Dean had silenced him by taking Cas’s dick into his mouth.

Dean was taking him as deep as he could, relaxing his jaw, saliva dropping from his lips. He let his hot tongue twirl slowly along the shaft, lifting his head up until only the tip remained in his mouth and sucked at it with firm pressure. Cas couldn’t take it any longer and wrestled Dean onto his back, pressing his mouth on Dean’s and pushing his tongue into this sinfully wet heat. “God, I want so bad right now,” he moaned into Dean’s mouth. Dean responded by tightly clutching Cas’s ass with both hands.

Without removing his lips from Dean’s he reached over to the nightstand to grab a bottle of lube. Then he quickly sat up and squeezed some on his hand, taking a second to warm it up between palm and fingers and swiftly slicked up his dick. Dean pushed his knees up, giving his boyfriend better access, who lowered himself until he reached Dean’s hole with the head of his erection.

Dean took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly and nodded to signal Cas that he was ready. Cas pushed inside, groaned, overwhelmed by the sudden sensation of Dean’s tightness and heat. “You feel…so good,” he sputtered, his hips taking up a circling motion. His forearms were propped on the mattress, framing Dean’s head and shoulders, keeping his upper body in place over his boyfriend’s torso. Dean had crossed his ankles slightly above Cas’s ass, his hands pulling him closer to his chest. Cas gave in and was now flush with Dean from the waist upwards. He blindly picked a pillow from beside Dean’s head to push his partner’s hips higher up with it, his hand remaining there to roughly knead one of Dean’s butt cheeks while he kept pounding into him. Dean’s arms were clinging to Cas’s back, his hard dick was trapped between their stomachs, sliding over their sweat covered skin with every move.

 _This is it,_ Cas thought. This was his happy ending, almost. The man he loved in his bed, as close as possible, nothing there to separate Dean from him. He had to make Dean realize it, too, make him stay and let his dangerous lifestyle behind him. He couldn’t say it, though. Not yet. Cas knew how Dean would react upon hearing the words _I love you_ —they would scare him away, Dean wasn’t yet ready to hear them. But Cas could make him feel his love, with this, connecting their bodies and being there for him in every way possible. Dean loved him too, he was certain. He just had to be convinced to put his love for Cas and his own happiness above everything else, even if that meant letting people down. But those people were strangers towards Dean had absolutely no feelings. It was just the guilt, his dead father posing as his conscience making him feel responsible that kept him going. Dean had already done enough. It was time for him to put an end to this insane suicide mission.

“Cas, I’m, uh, right there, please,” Dean’s begging voice dragged his attention back to what they were doing right now. He sped up his thrusts, evoking heavy moans from Dean with every push inside him, until, finally, Dean’s whole body tensed and his back arched off the bed. He came between their stomachs, hot and hard, a long suppressed cry escaping his throat. Then Cas, who was still rapidly pounding into him, followed and spilled literally everything he had into Dean, more than just his seed—his love, his pain, his inspiration; all there was.

“Dean, stay with me,” he pleaded. Dean didn’t answer.

 

Cas was sipping tea while reading the news on his tablet. Dean sat next to him on the couch and let his head fall onto Cas’s shoulder, seeming to studying the article on the display too, before he said, “I read your books.” Cas looked up from the screen on his lap. “Really?”

“Yeah! I mean, not all of them, only your angel trilogy so far.”

“Did you like it?”

“Mhm.” Dean kissed his cheek. “You’re a great writer, Cas.”

Cas could only smile shyly. “Thank you.”

“Do I get a signed copy of your new book when it’s finished?”

Cas hadn’t had the courage yet to even think about how he would break this to Dean. If he finally did, maybe Dean could offer an explanation for why Cas had visions of Dean’s life in the first place. “Uhm…yeah, sure.”

“That sounded like it could be a problem. I’ll pay for the book, you just have to put a signature into it and maybe write _For Dean,_ if that’s not too much to ask,” Dean sulked.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that, I’m sorry. Of course it won’t be a problem. I’ll make sure to get you a copy.” How was he going to handle this? “I’m just a bit anxious if it’s going to be any good,” he lied then.

“I’m sure it will,” Dean said and kissed him on the lips.

Cas then decided to make an attempt. “Dean, don’t you ever wish to have a normal life. With a job that’s safe…and a real home.”

“Cas—”

“I mean here, with me.” Cas took his hand and squeezed it tightly. He had to make Dean stay.

Dean looked back into his eyes for a while, without saying anything. Cas felt his eyes filling with tears. He didn’t want to cry, though; Dean should stay because he wanted to, not because Cas had coerced him into doing so. He didn’t want to manipulate Dean into feeling bad. Cas knew Dean thought to have a duty to save people from monsters but he wanted him to change his mind eventually. Cas couldn’t hold back the tears any longer and fled from the situation by quickly letting go of Dean’s hand and turning his face away. “Just think about it.” He stood up, pretending to get another cup of tea. “The offer stands,” he concluded, without looking back at Dean.

Later that day, after dinner, Dean had just finished cleaning the kitchen, Cas came up behind him. “We still haven’t talked about you breaking into my house properly,” he said.

“Cas, listen, I’m sorry, okay? I wanted to surprise you,” Dean said, defensively holding up his arms, kitchen towel still in one hand.

“Yeah, I know and I’m not mad or anything. I just wanted to give you this,” he told Dean, showing him a shiny piece of metal.

“You’re giving me a key to your house?” Dean asked, obviously stunned.

“Yes. I don’t want you to get arrested, so I think it’s for the best this way.” Dean smiled. “You make use of it any time you want. You’re always welcome here—consider this house your home, too.” Dean was reaching out to take the key but Cas retracted it before the metal had even touched Dean’s hand. “On one condition: promise me to think about what I told you earlier.”

Dean audibly breathed out before he answered. “Cas, we’ve talked about this…”

“No, _I_ have talked about this—you have not. You’re lucky you survived long enough to become 30. But what about turning 31? What are the odds you’ll live till January? Don’t you think I’ve seen all your scars? And I’m only talking about the ones on your skin, let alone your mental scars. You’ve saved so many people but I think you deserve to retire now. Try to get out as long as you’re still alive and not in a body bag. Live your life—with me. Please.”

Then Dean said, with reluctance in his voice. “Okay, Cas. I’ll think it through.”

“And, you know, maybe you can get back in touch with your brother when you’re out. The job’s the only reason you haven’t talked to him for years, right?” Dean hitched a sharp breath. Cas didn’t care anymore if bringing up Sam might have been foul play. He needed Dean to be safe.

“Yeah, Cas. I’ll think about quitting the job. I promise,” he said finally and Cas put the key in his hand.

“Thank you,” Cas said and hugged him tightly.

It wasn’t long until they had to part again but Cas was full of hope that this would be the last time he saw Dean leave.

 

Cas had an appointment with Naomi in New York City to discuss the newest script for _Angels among us._ “This is pure shit! And don’t like it at all.” What were they even thinking? “Do we know already what they think about me writing the script myself?”

“They think you’ll keep it too close to the book and they don’t want anything like that.”

“Of course I will. It’s my book!” Thus, an _Angels among us_ movie was completely off the table. He cared even more about it now that he knew Dean liked it as well.

After the meeting with his publisher he met up with Meg. He was disgracefully behind on updating her on his relationship with Dean; they had barely talked since he had informed her that Dean had become his boyfriend. Meg hadn’t had much time to fit him in between appointments, so Cas joined her on a quest for suitable artifacts for a customer. They were digging through all kinds of stuff while Cas was filling her in on everything concerning Dean (well, those parts he could talk about). “You gave him a key to your house? Does that mean he’s moving in with you?”

“I requested it but he needs some time to think about it,” Cas told her.

“That’s a big step, also considering that he’s very secretive about the actual circumstances of his life. You sure you can trust him?”

“I trust him with my life, Meg. And I know enough, you can be certain of that. It’s just that I can’t tell you everything.”

“Clarence, how can you say something like that? I’m your bestie. I’ve known you for much longer than he has.”

“He can tell you all of it himself when the two of you meet eventually.”

“Why haven’t I met him anyway? As your BFF I still need to approve of him.”

“Oh, Meg, you’ll love him. I do.” Meg almost dropped the crystal vase she was holding. “What? Have you told him already? Is that why you’re taking the big step of moving in together?”

“I said he’s thinking about moving in. And no, I haven’t told him yet. He’s not good at talking about feelings and I don’t wanna scare him off by saying it too soon.” Castiel noticed that he had unintendedly picked up a small angel figurine. “This one’s beautiful,” he said, completely engrossed in studying every feature of it.

“An angel holding an angel, what a picture!” Meg said. “If you want it, I can get you a discount.”

“Yeah, I think I’ll give it to Dean. He told me that his mother used to say angels were watching over him.”

“I guess it’s fate then, you know, that he met you,” Meg remarked.

“I think so,” Cas said and smiled at the little angel in his hand.


	6. How to finish a book

When Cas arrived at his house in the evening, he saw Dean’s car parked along the sidewalk. It was already dark outside and he could see light shimmering through the curtains in the living room. Cas was excited to hand Dean the small angel he had bought as he entered through the front door. “Dean?” he called from the hallway. No-one answered. He turned around the corner and spotted Dean sitting on the couch. He was crouched over some papers on the coffee table and didn’t look up when Cas walked around it to face him. “Dean, is something wrong?” He watched Dean grinding his teeth and tensely rubbing his hands together.

“I needed some paper, so I looked at your desk in the library and found something else instead,” he said, finally. He clenched one hand into a fist, the other holding up some of the papers as he continued, “What is this?” Cas took a closer look, suddenly realizing those were the notes for his book. The moment of truth had arrived and Cas wasn’t prepared at all. This was not how it was supposed to go down. “Did you read my journal? I thought you respected my privacy…of course, it was all too good to be true that you’re letting me into your life without insisting on answers.” Dean looked like he was on the verge of tears.

“Dean, of course I didn’t do this. You can trust me.” He took a deep breath, gaining some time to think, “I’ve thought about how to tell you this for a long time. I don’t really have a rational explanation but I think you and I were meant to be.”

“What the hell is this supposed to mean?” Dean appeared to be calm before the storm.

“As you’ve probably found out already, the book is about you. It was about you before we even met. I didn’t realize it at first but somehow you, my protagonist, have come to life.”

“Are you saying you created me like some kind of god, toying with my life like I’m your puppet—are you serious?”

“No, Dean. I’m trying to help you. I won’t let anything happen to you. I intended to kill you at first but now that we’ve met and I know you’re real—”

“Stop it!” Dean yelled. Cas instinctively took a step back. “You pretended to be afraid I could harm you when we first met but actually it was you who wanted kill me…are you crazy?!”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I only made you up, I was dreaming about you…” Cas dawned that he had approached this completely wrong. “Let me start this over. I had those dreams and they were both terrifying and inspiring and I started to write and then I met you and realized those weren’t dreams but rather visions of your life.”

“What? You’re telling me you’re some kind of psychic?” Dean didn’t seem convinced.

“No…I don’t know either how this happened. But somehow I know everything about you.”

“I’m not buying any of this.” He paused. “You know what I think? You were some troubled writer and then you got curious and spied on me, read my dad’s journal when I wasn’t paying attention and you let me into your house to get more stories out of me. And I was so stupid and didn’t even realize you were playing me.”

Cas couldn’t breathe. Now he was the one who was about to cry. “How can you even say something like that?” His whole body was trembling. He had always wanted the best for Dean, was there for him when he needed someone to take care of him. “You, of all people, should know that there are some things you can’t really explain. I think there’s a higher power behind this but you’re the expert on this kind of stuff. Tell me—why did I dream about you and meet you in person only a few days later?”

“Did you make a pact?” Dean didn’t answer his question but countered Cas with another instead. Cas only gave him a questioning look. “Did you sell your soul to get an idea for your book?”

“What? Dean, no!”

“You know, demons don’t always get you what you want—you have to read the fine print.”

“Dean, there weren’t any demons involved, I swear.”

“Are you a witch then? God, I hate witches…” Dean had gotten up and walked to stand behind the couch, posing as a barrier between them.

“I’m not a witch, Dean.” Cas was slowly getting desperate. “Please, you have to believe me. I didn’t do a magic trick to get you here…I mean, I didn’t ask for this.” As soon as the words had left his mouth he wanted to stuff them back again, swallow and digest them until there was nothing left.

“Neither did I, Cas.” He sounded defeated. “I offered to leave you alone many times and still you kept refusing it. That’s why I don’t get too close to people. I am a burden to every single one of them.”

“Dean, please don’t say that.” He rounded the couch to take Dean into his arms. “I’m glad to have you in my life. And I want to keep it that way. That’s why I’m begging you to stop hunting.”

“Why are you so eager to make me quit? How do you profit from that?” Dean’s mood had changed abruptly, like he was onto something.

“How do I….Dean, I want to spend my life with you!”

Dean had taken a few steps back. He was searching through the pockets of his jacket which was thrown over the back of the couch. “Drink this,” he said, presenting a silver flask.

“Is that holy water?”

“And the metal is coated in genuine silver,” Dean clarified.

“I’m not a demon, nor a shapeshifter or whatever,” Cas told him.

“Proof it!” Dean insisted.

Cas sighed, took the flask from Dean and took a sip. “See? Didn’t do me any harm.”

Dean grabbed it from Cas’s hand and screwed the cap back on. “Fine.”

“Are we done now? You can read my book if you want. It’s not finished yet, but you can take a look anyway. It’s your life, after all.”

“I can’t do this, Cas.”

“You don’t have to read it. I’m okay with that.” Cas then stuffed a hand in his pocket to retrieve the figurine he had bought for Dean. “I brought you something. I’m sure you’ll like it.”

Dean took it and unwrapped the plain white paper. Confusedly, he looked at the angel in his hand. “It made me think of you. I know your mother told you that angels are watching over you.” Tears shot into Dean’s eyes. _I think he likes it…I didn’t want to make him cry though._

“Why are you doing this to me?” Dean’s voice was trembling.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Dean. I didn’t think you…I thought, you know, your mom…and me having an angel’s name and wanting to take care of you—I guess this wasn’t such a good idea.”

Dean put the small angel back into Castiel’s hands. “You make me sick.”

“Dean!” He just shook his head at Cas.

“I can’t stand your presence any longer. I’ve been through a lot but this…you digging into my life and into my mind, using me for your own purposes—it’s too much.” Cas was trying to get hold of his arm but Dean flinched from his touch. “I’m leaving.”

“No, Dean! Please!” Cas grabbed him by the shoulders, trying to make Dean look at him. “I love you,” he whispered.

With huge, angry eyes, Dean pushed him back. “It’s over.” The words sounded like they were supposed to be yelled but Dean seemed to almost choke on them. Cas was close to hyperventilating and broke down on the floor when Dean disappeared through the front door. He heard a howl when Dean turned the key in the Impala’s ignition and saw its lights fade in the night as he drove away.

Dean had left the door wide open, letting cool air drift into the house. Cas wasn’t able to do anything about that, he just lay on the wooden floor, vision blurred by his tears, and kept staring out into the dark.

He must have fallen asleep because the next thing he knew was that he was freezing and Mr Turner had come to help him sit. “Pal, are you alright? I noticed your door was open and when I came over to look if there might have been a break-in at your house I saw you curled up on the floor.” Cas sobbed and wiped away the tears that still kept falling from his eyes. “Have you been knocked out? Do you think the intruder is still in the house….I should’ve brought my gun.”

“No, there wasn’t a break-in. I think I might have fallen asleep.” Cas’s throat was dry and it hurt him to speak.

“You sure about that?” Cas nodded. “I’ll be fine. Thanks for looking after me, Mr Turner.” Castiel pulled himself up on Mr Turner’s arms, let him out and, before he could close the door behind him, the old man said, “If you need anything, you have my number, right?”

“Yes, thank you. Have a good night.”

Cas found the angel figurine where he had dropped it during his collapse. A small chip had sprung from the porcelain, however nothing he wouldn’t be able to fix with some glue.

His throat was still burning so he went to get a glass of water but the cool liquid only made things worse. Dean’s words shot back into his mind and he couldn’t hold back a heavy sob. He held onto the kitchen counter, so tight that his knuckles turned white from the grip and his fingers went numb. Dean was gone. But Cas didn’t accept that it was over. He understood Dean was upset now but he would get over it eventually and come back to him. Then they would talk everything through, Cas would give him some time and in the end they were going to be happily together forever.

He wanted to call Dean, yet saw this was probably the worst thing he could do right now. Cas had to let Dean at least sleep over their argument before trying to smooth things out between them.

Cas swallowed hard to keep calm but it burned like acid. It was reasonable to go to bed now and think about this tomorrow with his head cleared. He washed the tears from his face, brushed his teeth and climbed under the covers. Before reaching for the switch of the beside lamp he gently placed the little angel on the nightstand next to his alarm clock, pressing a finger to his lips and then onto the angel’s head. His mind was buzzing with pictures of Dean and snippets of his accusations. Cas tried to shove them deep into the back of his head but ended up crying himself to sleep anyway.

 

Cas felt terribly sore when he stirred awake. Somehow he had expected to wake up next to a warm body but when he, without opening his eyes, reached for the other side of the bed, it was empty and cold. He remembered seeing Dean’s car outside his house in the evening, then, all of a sudden, the memories of last night were heavily raining down on him like hailstones.

Cas tried to open his eyes to confirm Dean really wasn’t there but they were too swollen and encrusted from his tears. He scratched at his eyelids until he was able to open them and see. The angel on his nightstand looked at him with pitying blue eyes. He took it and carefully touched the rough spot on one of the wings where a small piece was missing. Cas had been so sure that Dean would like this present. It had only made things worse between them.

He got up and cracked three eggs into a pan to keep his mind busy with something else but threw them away when they were done. The smell of cooked food made him sick and his throat still hurt like hell, so he wouldn’t have been able to swallow it anyway.

Face down he fell onto the couch and didn’t move for a long time. He could hardly breathe with his mouth and nose buried in the cushions but he didn’t care. Then he had to cry again. His weeping was extensive and heavy, consuming all his bodily strength until he fell asleep. He remained in a cycle of crying and sleeping for most of the day, till, in the late afternoon, he took his phone and tried to call Dean.

As expected, Dean didn’t pick up. Cas waited half an hour, then he texted him. _I’m so sorry. Please, tell me how to make things right!_ No reply. How could he placate Dean when he hadn’t even reacted to Cas telling him that he loved him? The root of their entire argument had been Cas’s book, so he should probably start there. Maybe it had been a mistake to continue writing after he’d found out who Dean really was. It wasn’t too late to dismiss the story now, he was certain of that.

_I won’t publish the book and I’m gonna stop working on it right now. No more writing, I’m deleting it. I’ll also tell my publisher to throw out everything she’s received so far._

Dean didn’t react to that either. _Please, Dean! Writing about you was wrong, I know that. Please come back to me!_ He called again but was immediately directed to voicemail.

It was hopeless. Dean was going to need more time.

The next morning Cas called Naomi. “I’m not finishing the book,” he said. “What are you talking about, Castiel? Is your writer’s block back again? I thought you’re good now. What you’ve given me so far is brilliant.”

“Listen to me, I can’t finish it—ever.”

“Of course you can. You just have to believe in yourself. The story’s pretty much worked out. Just a few adjustments here and there and the ending; you’re almost done. And you already know that Dean will end up dead, so where’s the problem?”

“I can’t kill Dean, do you understand me? He’s going to live a long and happy life.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I will let him live. But how the book ends is irrelevant because I won’t finish it. I’m going to delete it and I’m asking you to do the same.”

“Castiel, you’re stressed out, I understand that. And I know you’re anxious about the quality of your book, but I can assure you it’s great. It’s going to be your masterpiece, you just have to hang in till the end. You can do that, don’t worry.”

“Didn’t you pay attention to what I said? _I won’t finish the damn book!_ I’m done with it, period.”

“Castiel, I advise you to take some time off. We’ll talk again when you’ve come to your senses.” Then she hung up.

Cas stared at the phone in his hand for a while after that. Naomi would have to accept his decision eventually. Every step at a time. First, he’d begin with removing the book from his own computer. He walked into his library, pressed the power button on his laptop and moved the cursor to the file in question. His finger hovered over the cancel button. It wouldn’t be done with this; there were other places he kept this particular file at—an external hard drive, two flash drives. After the disastrous loss of 2012, when his computer had crashed and all hard drive contents had remained irrecoverable, he had learned his lesson not to leave anything to chance when it came to saving his writings.

The finger was still a safe distance above the button; he hesitated to move it down. What if by deleting the documentation of Dean’s life he would erase the man as well? Would it kill him? Would he cease to have existed at all? This was just silly. Cas was pretty sure Dean had been alive before he had even written the first word of his book. The story had been inspired by Dean’s life in the first place, he’d had visions of the actual Dean before writing, which lead him to the conclusion that real Dean had come into existence years before book-Dean. Did that even make sense? If Dean would disappear into thin air after deleting his work, this meant that he had derived from his imagination after all. But Cas wouldn’t want to believe that. He loved Dean—an actual, living, flesh and blood man. He couldn’t risk it though. God knows what was behind all this.

Cas chose to refrain from deleting all evidence of Dean’s life, but stuck to his decision to let his book remain unfinished.

 

Two days had passed without a word from Dean. Cas had spent the time watching house flipping shows on HGTV. Maybe he would also renovate his kitchen. The cabinets and countertops were getting worn down; they hadn’t been particularly new when he had bought the house. He started wondering what kind of wood for the cabinet fronts Dean would chose, what color for the walls he’d like. Dean was supposed to live with him; Cas couldn’t decide such things on his own. He missed Dean so much. They’d used to be apart for weeks when Dean was working jobs but at least they had been texting and talking on the phone. Now there was radio silence.

Cas needed to talk to someone, so he called Meg. “Hey, Clarence! Have you given him the angel yet?”

“Yeah…”

“That didn’t sound like he liked it.”

“He didn’t. It was a bad idea.”  
“How could giving him a porcelain angel have been a bad idea? I don’t get it.”

“We were having a huge argument and when I thought it was over I gave him the angel, but apparently he was still pretty upset and he freaked out that I somehow brought up his dead mom with it.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Are you two okay now?”

“No. He said it was over.” He tried his best not to cry while talking to Meg.

“Cas, what the hell happened?! The angel can’t actually have been the reason he broke up with you.”

“Uh, it’s complicated. He kind of was the inspiration for my book and he found out and didn’t seem to be too happy about it.”

“I thought you met him after beginning your book.”

“I did…like I said, it’s complicated. I’ll explain it to you another time. Point is, he’s gone.”

“How are you dealing with it?”

“I was very upset, at first. But I’m positive he’ll get over our stupid argument and come back to me. I even told him I won’t publish the book.”

“I’m sure he will.” Cas knew she was only saying this because she was his friend and tried to comfort him but he was convinced Dean would forgive him eventually.

“Thanks for listening, Meg.”

“No problem, Cas. Call me if you need anything.”

“I will, bye.” After hanging up he texted Dean. _I already told my publisher that I won’t finish the book._ Cas hadn’t really expected Dean to text back but was still disappointed when he didn’t receive a reply.


	7. Welcome to the real world

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas is having his breakdown.

Their fight had occurred ten days ago and Dean still hadn’t returned any of Castiel’s calls or texts. Cas didn’t even know any of Dean’s friends, so he couldn’t contact them to make sure Dean was okay. He had briefly toyed with the idea of tracking down Sam Winchester but there was no reason to assume he’d know anything of Dean’s whereabouts. The siblings hadn’t talked in over a decade and Sam probably lived a totally different life after he had quit hunting. Cas talking to Sam would surely push Dean further away from him than he already was. He felt so helpless without a chance to get in touch with him, unless he’d change his mind and decided to accept Cas’s apologies.

The leaves on the trees had turned from green to various shades of warm colors. It wasn’t that cold outside because the sun kept shining brightly during the day, unimpeded by clouds or fog. Still, he hadn’t gone for his morning run once since Dean had left.

He was currently reading the first book of _Angels among us._ His own words were strangely comforting, considering that Dean had approved of the book. He imagined Dean reading his books while his eyes flew over the familiar lines, like he might have been thinking of Cas writing it and missing him. Where had he been when he’d read these books? In his car, in a cheap motel room? At Bobby’s house maybe?

Cas hadn’t noticed the tears until the letters in front of him began to blur. He didn’t want to cry again, his stories were supposed to be his happy place. He grabbed his phone from the coffee table and typed out a plea to Dean. _I miss you so much. Please come back!!!_

As always, Cas’s phone remained silent.

 

Naomi had asked Castiel to meet her in her office in NYC. He didn’t feel like leaving his house for anything but buying food, let alone driving to the city, but he had given in and now he was entering his publisher’s office through the glass door.

“Castiel, where were you? I tried to contact you for weeks. You didn’t answer any of my calls, nor my e-mails. It was like you’d disappeared from the face of the earth.”

“I didn’t want to talk to anybody. I’m sorry. I had a terrible break-up.”

“Sorry to hear that but you can’t just ignore me like that. You know, I could cancel your contract when you do that.”

“I know…” Guiltily he looked down at his feet.

“Tell me, Castiel. Have you returned to writing?”

“I haven’t had any new ideas yet.”

“I was referring to your current project, not something new.”

“I already told you, I’m not going to finish it.”

“Castiel, it’s almost done. You only need to kill the man. The end. Do you really want to throw all your hard work away just like that?”

“I can’t kill Dean. I’m a writer, not a murderer!” Cas was flexing his fingers to calm himself.

“What are you talking about? He won’t be the first character you’ve killed.”

“If I write Dean’s death, he will actually die.”

“Castiel, did you have some kind of accident? Is that why I couldn’t get in touch with you—did you hit your head or something?”

“I’m perfectly healthy. I can’t kill Dean in the story because he’s real. He’s an actual person. I met him and I fell in love with him. I am Jimmy. Do you understand me?”

“Are telling me Dean is based on your ex and if you let Dean die in the book he will be more upset than he is now and never come back to you?”

“No, I…” He took a deep breath. “I only met him when I’d already finished the first chapters. But yes, Jimmy is based on me. And somehow the story I wrote became real. Dean is an actual hunter, killing supernatural monsters is his job.”

“Oh boy.” Naomi clapped her hands together in front of her face. “I’ve heard of this from colleagues, but I’ve never actually seen it myself.”

“So you believe me? Has this happened before?”

“Writers who get so deeply drawn into their own stories, their imaginary worlds, that they believe it’s true; that what they’re writing is actually happening. Castiel, monsters aren’t real!” She got up from her chair and rounded the desk to come closer to Cas. “I don’t know about your boyfriend…or ex-boyfriend. Maybe he even encouraged it…he might be using you, maybe he’s after your money.”

“We never even talked about my book until right before he left me.” Of course Dean wasn’t a gold digger. He would never do that to Cas. “Whatever…I’m not making this up. I met Dean _after_ I’d created the character and after some time I realized he was the man I was writing about. All the things he told me about his life were already in my book, that’s how I knew. When he found out he was mad and didn’t believe me himself, although he has to deal with all kinds of supernatural crap on a daily basis. He even made me drink holy water to proof I’m not a demon.”

“Stay away from that man, Castiel—given that there ever was a Dean. He’s driving you even further away from sanity.”

Cas felt desperation take over. His eyes were leaking and his voice was trembling. “I’m not crazy, okay. Dean is real, my love for him is real and the pain our split-up left is real!” He had to hold onto the chair that was intended for guests and customers, which Cas had never made use of after entering Naomi’s office. “Everything is real!”

“I’ll give you a therapist’s number. She was recommended to me for cases like this.”

“I’m not letting some shrink make me believe that I only made up the love of my life and that he’s not a hero. He is—he’s saved so many people.”

“You’re delusional, Castiel. You need help,” Naomi spoke calmly.

Cas’s mental state was a pure mess right now. _Dean is real. What does she know…_ “I’m leaving now,” he managed to say, despite the big lump in his throat.

“Castiel, at least take the number,” Naomi called after him as he quickly rushed out of her office and the building. He found himself stranded on a busy sidewalk, cars were driving by, honks blaring every few seconds. This was all too much. He needed quiet around him.

He fidgeted his phone out of his jacket pocket and dialed Meg’s number.

“Hi angel, what’s up?”

“Meg, can we meet up. I’m in the city.”

“Cas, are you alright? You don’t sound too well.”

“Please, Meg. I need to talk to you. Now!”

“Sure. I’m home right now, come over!”

Cas took a cab to Meg’s loft. His car was parked in a garage a few blocks away, but he didn’t feel to be in an acceptable state to drive and hated driving in the city anyway.

“Cas, you look like shit,” Meg greeted him when she answered the door.

“I _feel_ like shit,” he said.

“What happened?”

“I was at my publisher’s office.”

“She don’t like your book or what?”

“No, she says it’s brilliant.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I’m not gonna finish it. It’s never going to be published. I quit… I mean, not writing, but writing this particular book.” Cas followed Meg into the room after taking off his jacket. “What’s she doing here?” Rowena was sitting on the sofa, sipping a cup of tea.

“Hello to you too, Castiel,” she said sarcastically.

“I invited her over. She was already here when you called. Did you expect me to throw her out?”

“Oh, you can talk to your bestie. I’ll just sit here, drink my Darjeeling and mind my own business. I’m not interested in your problems anyway.” Rowena pursed her red lips and rolled her heavily painted eyes. That woman always wore too much make-up.

“Rowena…” Meg scolded her. “Come on Cas, we’ll talk in the bedroom.” This one and the bathroom were the only ones separated by walls from the open space that took over most of Meg’s apartment.

“So, you were saying…”

“I can’t finish the book because Dean hates that I’m writing about him.”

“Right. He’s your muse…but what about meeting him after you started writing. You sounded a little confused last time we talked about him.”

“Listen, okay. This is gonna sound crazy but it’s true: I had visions of Dean’s life in my dreams which got me the initial idea to write about a man who hunts supernatural beings. Then I met Dean and I gradually became aware that he is the man I had been dreaming about—you understand me? Book-Dean is the real Dean. That’s why I changed my plan to kill him in the end like I’ve killed most of my major characters, because by killing book-Dean I would be killing the actual Dean. But that’s redundant now anyway because I won’t finish the book.”

Meg didn’t say anything for almost a minute. “Man,” she stretched the word, “that break-up really hit you in all the wrong places.”

“You don’t believe me,” Cas said, realizing his defeat.

“Believe you, Cas? I mean, I don’t even know where to begin. This is so completely fucked up. Visions and all the other supernatural stuff… You’ve been writing about things like these so many times but you’ve never tried to convince me before that they’re real. And I thought you knew that, too. You don’t even really believe in God, although your devout Catholic parents made you go to church every Sunday and on other holidays for the first eighteen years of your life.”

“I’m still an agnostic, Meg.”

“Then please tell me you don’t think ghosts and vampires and those other things actually exist.”

He couldn’t look her in the eyes and lowered his onto his lap instead. “I haven’t seen any but I know Dean’s job is to get rid of them.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“No, he didn’t have to. I already knew all of it because I’ve seen it in my dreams. We’ve hardly even talked about it. He didn’t know that I knew. Then he found my notes and we had our fight. He didn’t deny it, he…” Mentioning the holy water again was probably unwise. “I know everything’s real, Meg.”

“So you’ve made him up after all.”

“That’s not what I said—”

“But that’s what I’m hearing. You didn’t meet Dean and create a story around the cute guy. You thought of a certain character, a handsome man whose job it is to hunt monsters… Now I’m confused. How does your boyfriend fit in the equation? No, wait. He isn’t real, he only exists in your imagination.”

“Meg, no…” He hid his face in his hands. How else could he explain it to her? “Okay, forget all the monster hunting stuff. Dean is real. He is my actual boyfriend…was. I’m getting a headache.”

“Show me a picture, Cas.”

“A picture of what?”

“Of Dean. You have a picture, right?”

Did he? Actually, no, he didn’t. Why hadn’t they taken any pictures like normal 21st century couples used to do? “Wait, yes. I have one.” He blushed. “Don’t ever tell Dean I showed this to you.” He unlocked his phone and searched his pictures for this particular one.

“Cas!” she yelped. “You can’t even see his face.”

“But now you see he’s real!”

“You just showed me the picture of a naked guy you’ve saved on your phone. That could be anyone.”

“I’ll show you our texts.” Meg scrolled through them but didn’t seem convinced yet.

“He doesn’t pick up when you call, right?” she asked then.

“No…why?”

“I’ll call him. From my phone. I need to hear his voice and confirm that he’s real.”

“Meg, what…” It was hopeless. She handed her his phone so she could dial the number. “And? Is it ringing?” Meg hung up again after only a few seconds.

“I didn’t reach anyone.” She dialed again and put the phone on speaker. _“The number you are trying to call is not available.”_

“But…are you sure you dialed correctly?” He tried to grab her phone but she pulled her hand back before he could reach it.

“Cas, did you send those messages to yourself?” she asked earnestly.

Cas gasped. “What? No, I…how can you even… I told you I’m not crazy! I didn’t make this up.” He was curling up on Meg’s bed, knees locked onto his chin. “I didn’t make this up,” he repeated, sobbing this time.

Meg lay down too, face to face with Cas. She reached one hand over to stroke his head. “I know you’re lonely. There’s not much to do in a small town and your family and friends live hours away. I’ve tried to be there for you as much as I can despite the distance between us, but I’ve also been very busy with my job lately and I’m sorry if I didn’t listen as much as you might have needed me to. Therefore I can understand that you made up a friend, but you have to stop clinging to the idea that he’s real; that’s just not healthy.”

Cas had run out of ways to prove Dean existed. Maybe Meg and Naomi were right. _No, they’re not! Don’t even think that. Dean is the best thing that’s ever happened to you and you can be sure it actually happened._ No-one could ever imagine the love he felt for Dean Winchester, a real-life hunter, a good man—the best he’d ever met.

Cas kept crying into Meg’s mattress until he ran out of tears. Meg had sent Rowena home and tried to comfort him but couldn’t. He stayed with her overnight but insisted on driving back to Seneca Falls the next morning. He desperately needed to get away from all the people who tried to talk him into believing that Dean wasn’t an actual person; he would never accept that. Still, when he dialed Dean’s number it continued to be a loose end.

 

Back at home Cas was pacing around the living room, thinking of ways to find proof for Dean’s existence. He unlocked his tablet and googled Dean’s name but quickly saw that he wouldn’t find the man via social media. Instead he typed Sam Winchester’s name into the search bar. Too many results showed up, so he added ‘Stanford.’ In no time he had found matching Facebook and LinkedIn profiles, telling him that Sam worked at a law firm in Sacramento. Cas typed the number into his phone and waited.

“Murray, Cootes & Carr, how can I help you?” a woman’s voice asked.

“Uh, hello. I’d like to talk to Mr Sam Winchester, please.”

“May I ask the reason for your call?”

“I’m calling about a family issue. It’s about his brother.”

“Just one moment please, I’ll put you through.”

“Winchester speaking.”

“Hello. Is this Sam Winchester, parents John and Mary?”

“Who is this?”

“Uhm, I… I’m a friend of your brother’s.”

There was a pause. “I don’t have a brother,” he said then and hung up.

Obviously, he was lying. Of course he had a brother and Cas was pretty sure he had reached the right Sam Winchester. Cas dialed the number again. The same woman recited her phrase.

“Hi, I’ve called before. I’d like to speak to Mr Winchester, please.”

“Mr Winchester is unavailable. Please don’t call again.” She hung up.

Anyway, Sam was real, therefore Dean was real too. But he couldn’t proof that the guy he’d been talking to on the phone was the Sam who happened to be Dean’s brother. Not with Sam denying it. And even if Sam confirmed having a brother named Dean, there was still no reason for those who doubted him to believe that Cas and Dean had actually met and that Dean was hunting monsters. Because Sam wouldn’t tell them that monsters were real.

He felt like his head was going to explode.

Cas picked up his phone again and opened the thread with his and Dean’s text messages. Dean had written them, not him. Cas didn’t have another phone he used to send those messages to himself. He had also never been to KC and could not have taken the photo of this particular barbecue.

He started a Google image search with the picture and lots of pretty similar photos popped up. Other people must have posted photos of their food from the same restaurant on various social media platforms. They all looked the same. Maybe he had just taken a random image from the internet and sent it to himself…

_No! I’m not insane!_ He was losing his mind.

Yet, he couldn’t recall buying another phone or writing those messages.

Cas could still feel Dean’s hands on his skin, remembered it very vividly how they’d made love. He touched his lips with his fingers. Dean had kissed him there, many times. He knew it had happened. He just knew it…

He didn’t know anything anymore.

He had to admit he’d been in a bad condition during his writer’s block, which had been getting worse every day. When inspiration had finally hit him at last, he might have been too invested in creating his story. Was it too much of a coincidence that he had met Dean the moment he had settled on a car for his protagonist? Then it suddenly occurred to him that Mrs Moseley had seen them together. He rushed outside to his car and drove to the library.

Panting, he entered the building, spotting the librarian behind the front desk.

“Mrs Moseley, I’m so glad to see you!”

“Mr Novak, nice to see you too. Haven’t had the pleasure in a while.”

“Yeah, I’ve been busy. Listen, do you remember when there was this guy, about as tall as me, dark blonde hair. You scolded us for talking too loud.”

“Uhm, yeah…well, this happens all the time. Kids come in here and make a fuss. When exactly is this supposed to have occurred?”

“Sometime in May.”

“In May?! That’s almost six months ago.”

“So you don’t remember the guy?”

“Sorry I couldn’t help you.”

“It’s fine. Thanks anyway. Goodbye.”

Talking to waitresses and bartenders would supposedly also just be a dead end. He drove back home and parked his car in the driveway. _Mr Turner!_ The old man was just outside to check his mailbox. “Mr Turner, can I talk to you for a sec?”

“Of course. What is it?”

“Lately, there’s sometimes been a black classic car parked outside my house. You’ve seen it, right?”

“Uh, well. I don’t pay much attention to cars. As long as I have my own and it’s working, I don’t think about cars too often.”

“But you’ve seen the car I’m talking about? A Chevy Impala.”

“There might have been a car, yes.” He seemed uncertain. “Maybe…I don’t know.” _Yet he wants to storm into my house with a gun when he sees the door being open._

Cas thanked him and made a round to his other neighbors. No-one could recall the car in question, nor a handsome young man visiting him on a few occasions. Dean breaking into his house might not have been that much of a problem after all.

Assuming he had even done that. Was he really not real?

“Hello Naomi, it’s Castiel. You mentioned someone who I could talk to…yes. I’d like to have her number now, please.”


	8. Mors certa, vita incerta

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea how such a therapy session goes down. This is totally made up.

Cas had temporarily moved in with his sister again. The therapist’s office was in the city and Cas couldn’t just drive half the day to get to his appointments and back home. He hadn’t called immediately after receiving the number from Naomi but had had Meg help him with making his first appointment. He wouldn’t have known what to say why exactly he needed to see her. Meg had escorted him to Dr Sands’ office to make sure he wouldn’t chicken out and skip his first therapy session. In the meantime, while Cas was counting the days to his first meeting with Dr Sands, his father had asked a friend who worked for the police to trace Dean’s phone number and make sure they weren’t talking him out of his mind. The number used to belong to a prepaid card, bought near Seneca Falls, paid cash. More was not to find out.

“Hello, I’m Dr Josie Sands. Would you prefer me to call you Mr Novak or Castiel?”

“Castiel is fine.”

“Well then, please take a seat,” she said and gestured towards a comfy leather chair.

“Tell me, Castiel, why are you here?”

“You know why I’m here.”

“Yes, but I want _you_ to say it.”

His lower lip was trembling. He felt like crying. He wasn’t prepared for this at all. His hands were getting sweaty and he wiped them dry on his pants. “I’m…” This was harder than he’d thought. “I’ve been having some trouble lately, telling what’s real and what’s not.”

“And what is it that you thought was real but is not?”

“I’m still not so sure about that. I mean, people are telling me those things aren’t real but…” He didn’t know how to continue.

“But it’s likely those things only exist in your imagination?” Dr Sands helped.

“Yes…maybe.”

Cas talked about Dean and how they met, about their relationship and their break-up. He didn’t mention the monster hunting though.

“You were suffering through years of writer’s block. Is that correct?” the doctor asked.

“Yes. First, I just needed a break from writing but when I was ready to start a new book, I couldn’t. I’ve always had so many ideas and I used to write them down but I didn’t know how to make them into stories. Then I started having those dreams and—boom, there it was. I could already feel the whole book inside me, I just needed to write it.”

“Did you use any auxiliary measures to help you getting over your writer’s block?”

“Are you asking me if I’m using drugs?”

“Do you?”

“No! I’ve tried weed once during college. It was awful. I’ve never done anything else. I hardly even drink.”

Cas didn’t like where this was going. Their time was up soon and Meg had stayed in the waiting room to bring him home.

“How was it?” she asked.

“Okay, I guess.” He still didn’t dare to believe Dean wasn’t real but he also grasped that he probably had some severe issues.

The next time, Cas made it alone to the doctor’s office. Dr Sands made him talk more about his life and how he lived.

“You live in a small town and you live there alone, is that correct?” Cas nodded. “All your closest family members live here, even your friends?” Cas verified her summary of his life again. “And you haven’t been in a committed relationship before Dean for quite a long time?”

“Yes.”

“Were you lonely before you met him?”

“Yeah, I think so.” He cleared his throat, then altered his answer. “Yes, very lonely.”

“Did you ever consider that you, maybe, have been craving so much for a person to be close to you that you, perhaps, created someone in your head to fit all your desires?”

“You mean I made Dean up in my mind because I didn’t want to be alone anymore?”

“Would that be a possibility?”

Cas thought about this for a moment. “I guess so…”

“Would that be a reasonable explanation for you?”

“I…maybe.” But what about the text messages? “How did I get his texts? I can’t recall writing them myself.”

“Maybe you did but chose to forget because your bubble would’ve burst if you didn’t.”

Cas took a breath but didn’t speak. “Or, the texts derived from a real person who you, maybe, met online and blended their actual texts with your fantasies of Dean.”

“Actually, when I started writing my book, I did fantasize about Dean. I guess that’s why I based his love interest on myself. I wanted Dean to be with someone like me…or me with someone like him.”

“Would something like this make sense to you?”

“Actually, yes.”

Dr Sands told him she was glad he’d made some progress. Still, to make sure his physical health was in order at least, the doctor let Cas make an CT appointment and have some other check-ups. As it turned out, physically he was perfectly fine. It was only his mind that was playing tricks on him.

After another two sessions, the therapist advised him to finish his book like he’d intended to. Coming to an end with this project would help him close this chapter of his life. She also recommended him to write while still living with his sister and regularly talk about his writing with her and his friends, so he wouldn’t get lost in his story again.

Cas was sure she was right. Finishing the book and killing Dean would finally put an end to his problems.

 

Castiel spent Christmas with his sister at their parents’ home. He hadn’t done this much socializing since his move to Seneca Falls. Sure, he’d visited his family for Christmas and Thanksgiving before, but only ever stayed as long as necessary. They’d kept bugging him about his writer’s block and his non-existent love life and Cas had been relieved every time he’d made it back to his fortress of solitude in Seneca Falls where he could live his life in peace.

“How’s it going with your book?” his father asked.

“It’s done. I’ve already forwarded the last chapter to my publisher. The release date is set for late January.”

“That’s good to hear, son. And how about therapy?”

“I’ve been to my last appointment with Dr Sands two weeks ago. She’s given me two thumbs up—I’m fine now.”

All family members attended Midnight Mass that year, even Cas. He stayed in New York until after New Year’s Eve, then he moved back to his own house.

Cas had to shovel a lot of snow but he didn’t mind. He saw it as workout, considering he couldn’t go for his run in that kind of winter wonderland.

In the end, Naomi hadn’t been as satisfied with his book as he’d hoped, but he’d done the best he could, in view of his mental state. Cas though was happy with the result and glad he’d finally done it. He’d been through too much with this project and could now leave it behind him.

Cas had just received a package with some pre-release copies of his book. The graphics department had done a great job with the cover design. Also, the font had been a very good choice. After so many books it was still weird to read his name on a new one. He flipped through the pages and it felt good to finally have something in his hands to make him realize it was actually done.

Then he opened the page reserved for dedications. His fingers gently slid over the only two words.

_For Dean._

A knock on his door startled him. He put down the book and headed for the door. Tears shot in his eyes when he had opened it.

“Hey Cas.”

_“Dean!”_

 

Cas fell down to his knees and Dean rushed forward to catch him. “I’m so sorry, Cas,” he said. Cas pushed his face firmly against Dean’s chest. He didn’t care that he was freezing. This couldn’t be real. He’d hoped it would happen eventually, since he hadn’t ended up killing Dean, but there had also been the voice of reason that kept telling him Dean was only a character in his book.

“Are you really h-here? A-are you really real?” he stammered.

“Yes, I’m here, Cas. I’m so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have left you for so long. I was just so upset and then I was stubborn, but I couldn’t get over you.”

Cas punched his shoulder—hard. “You have no idea what I’ve been through, you ass!” He was shaking and he wasn’t sure whether it was the cold or Dean being here or both. “We should talk inside,” he said and Dean helped him up.

After closing the door behind them, he continued, “There’s something I have to do first,” he said and fetched his phone from the coffee table. He touched the FaceTime app and waited for Meg to pick up.

“Since when do you facetime?” she asked.

“I have to show you something and you have to tell me if you can see it too.”

“Oh, Cas. Is everything alright there?”

“Just tell me,” he said and moved towards Dean and stood beside him. “Do you see the guy next to me?”

“Cas?”

“Do you see him?” he insisted.

“Yes, I see him.”

“Tell her who you are,” he told Dean.

“Uh, hi, I’m Dean,” he said and waved at the camera.

Meg’s face disappeared for a moment because she seemed to have dropped her phone. “Oh my God, Cas. I can’t even… I’m so sorry for what I’ve put you through. I just didn’t… I—”

“That’s all I needed to know,” Cas interrupted her and hung up. Then he threw his phone on the couch, wrapped his arms around Dean and kissed him.

“Don’t you ever leave me again,” he said then.

“I won’t. Promise.”


	9. Epilogue

It was probably time to give those two love birds some privacy. Not that he cared what they would have liked—they didn’t know he was watching them anyway—but even for his taste this situation was too saccharine. And he loved the sweet stuff.

The whole thing had turned out even better than he’d anticipated. Poor Cassie thought he was losing his mind. Only humans could add such a twist to a story.

When Gabriel first put the dreams in Castiel’s head he hadn’t thought the whole thing would take so long. Then he had him meet Dean and somehow they actually fell in love. But this…Cas starting to think that Dean wasn’t real—it was more than he could’ve ever wished for. At some point it got pretty boring and he was already plotting out things to keep up the thrill, but then Dean broke up with Cas and everything took a totally different turn. The book might not have ended up being Castiel’s masterpiece, but this was definitely the Trickster’s most outstanding stunt ever, since the dawn of creation.

His little brother had given up angelhood to experience love as a human and he got that, even though the archangel Gabriel hadn’t made it easy for him. It was time for him to move on now and find another project where he could troll humans. He was totally open for some fresh entertainment.


End file.
